Inside the Box
by metal-mako-dragon
Summary: Racoon city wasn't something he would ever forget.He needed something to distract him from the monotony and lonliness of just surviving.Shame that the thing which it seemed might help,would only lead Leon deeper down the rabbit hole. Slash in later chaps
1. Prologue

Note: Just a reminder that this fic is AU, so please expect the changes and people who shouldn't be there!

**Prologue**

I wake up screaming.

Every night, without fail, I would wake up grabbing the sheets in white knuckled fists, staring into the darkness. I swear...I _swear_ I could feel the hands grabbing onto me, that stench of rotting flesh, that inhuman, distressing groan. At first I didn't even realise that I screamed at all, not until my landlord mentioned I was disturbing the neighbours when he came for the rent. It made me feel sick, the thought that it was still affecting me. Even after my escape, I still hadn't managed to fully leave the past behind. Some nights I felt like I would never escape it at all, that every night for the rest of my life would end with me waking to sweat soaked sheets and angry landlords.

That was usually when I phoned Claire. I felt bad about doing it, partially because it was always far too early for her to be awake and also because I felt like a pathetic fool for asking Claire of all people for comfort. She'd been through the horrors of Racoon too, and somehow she'd seemed to be getting over it far quicker than I was.

"Hey Leon," she would say, "bad dreams?"

Her voice was calming, and for some reason it reminded me that it was over, it was finished. I wasn't there any more, neither of us were. I'm not sure why I needed her reassurance that it was true, but sometimes I found it hard to tell the difference between reality and the horrors lurking in my subconscious. It was three straight weeks of calling her every night before she broached the subject of therapy. I guess, considering how patient she'd been with me, I shouldn't have shouted at her.

"Don't be mad," she'd said sternly, "I'm only thinking of you, of what's best for you."  
"I...I'm sorry," I felt ashamed when the tears began to roll down my face, trying and failing to stifle the sob that left my throat.  
"Oh Leon," he tone was once more kind, almost mothering, "look, I really think it would be best if you spoke to someone about this. I know it's hard, believe me _I know_. I hate to think of you like this, you know I care about you right?"

She'd given me a name and a phone number and I'd gone without any more questions. I'd told myself I was doing it for her and somehow that didn't grate as much on my pride as giving in and believing that I needed it. The first few sessions didn't go well, mainly because I hadn't thought about how hard it would be to skirt round the reasons for my nightmares. The shrink, a woman named Melissa Hydan, had given me leeway on the first few evasive answers, but after that I could tell she was becoming annoyed. This, in turn, made me annoyed and I ended up storming out of her office. It was Claire again who convinced me to go back, to stick with it. I think, deep down, she was worried I was going to do something rash, like kill myself, or maybe someone else. I'm not sure if she thought I was delusional at that point, but then I was never sure what I babbled down the phone at her about sometimes, I usually hadn't woken up by then. I think it scared her, the things that I said, and I've always felt guilty about that.

"Get a hold of yourself Kennedy," I'd breath every time as I stood outside Melissa's door.

After the third session things got better. She realised there were boundaries laid down between what I would and wouldn't talk about, and I realised how to bend or disguise the truth enough that I could talk without giving away too much information. Claire had been right of course, she usually was; it had helped. After four weeks I was calling Claire at more sociable hours to talk about her day instead of sobbing down the phone at her at three in the morning. She was happy for me, she'd said one day, that I was feeling better and for some reason it made me feel absurdly lonely.

After escaping Racoon City, Claire had gone to stay with her brother Chris Redfield while she recovered and tried to get her life back on its feet. Chris had offered me the same courtesy and, thanks to him, I had somewhere to stay while Claire and I suffered through the barrage of police questioning, tests, lawsuits and constant harassment by the press. After it had died down, months later, he continued to let me stay while I looked for a job and an apartment. He was a genuinely nice guy and I envied Claire her protective older brother. I'd never had any siblings, my mother died when I was very young and my father and I hadn't spoken for four years. Since I'd moved out of the Redfield's I'd been so preoccupied by my nightmares and trying to get over them that, once I had, I felt more lost and alone than I think I ever have in my life. I realised just how much time I spent in my apartment, alone and just how meaningless my life had become. I got up, showered, went to work, came back, ate and slept. Lather, rinse repeat.

I'll admit it, it depressed me. I stopped going to see Melissa, telling her I was done, that I was better now. She didn't buy it, obviously the tone of my voice gave away the bullshit I was trying to pull. She even turned up at my apartment once, scaring the crap out of me, and forced me to talk.

"Is this professional conduct?" I had snapped at her as she settled herself on my couch, admiring my living room.  
"Not really no, but then you'd know all about that wouldn't you Leon?" she'd smiled, ribbing me playfully as she always did, "now go and put a top on or I won't be held responsible for any more unprofessional conduct I might feel the need to indulge in."

I hadn't even registered that I was standing there with no shirt on until she pointed it out. She had surprised me in the middle of changing. I hurried to my bedroom, slamming the door and grabbing a t-shirt from a drawer. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and blanched at the sight. The fact that I was blushing so goddamn hard just from a simple joke also showed just how long it had been since I'd had any intimate company. I'd sighed, running my hands through my hair. Everything was falling apart, that's how I felt. That was when Melissa offered me a way out.

"It's a recruitment programme," she said helpfully when I didn't respond, waving the sheet of paper in my face, "are you going to take it or do you want me to read it out?"

At the time working for the government seemed like a joke. The investigation they had put into action against Umbrella had quickly and efficiently been doused by Umbrella's expert lawyers and vast funds. I was still angry about it, I wouldn't lie, and I had laughed in Melissa's face and told her, in detail, exactly why I would never work for them. It was only after I had raged at her for ten minutes that I realised I had said far too much. After months of carefully making sure I didn't say the words zombie, undead, Umbrella and T-Virus and I had spouted it all out in ten measly minutes. I stared at Melissa in horror, but was even more amazed when she just rolled her eyes.

"Come on Leon," she said with a smile, "don't you think there was a reason Claire Redfield recommended you to me? I helped her brother out, after the mansion incident, you know?"  
"Why didn't you..?" I breathed out, still tense.  
"Say anything?" she finished, sighing as she crossed her legs, "I didn't want to say anything because you wouldn't have believed me, you would have thought I was just being patronising to get you to speak. Don't deny it. But all I can say is I believe you Leon."

My world had done a couple of flips before settling right ways up again. I had stared at Melissa for a whole minute in silence before I could come to terms with any of it. Somehow it made more sense now why Chris had been so accommodating.

"Now why don't you sit down and take another look at this," she'd said civilly.

She talked me into taking the assessment. The evaluators were so impressed with my skills that they didn't even make me take the whole test. The only thing they were stringent about was a background check. When they found out who I was, well, let's say that it was a very good thing that Claire had talked me into therapy. They wanted to know that I was mentally sound, no PTSD, and Melissa was more than happy to sign me off. Her belief in my ability to cope was perhaps the most reassuring thing she had ever done for me.

I'd left for the training programme a week later. I talked it over with Melissa first, and then Claire. I'd wanted to ask Chris but something stopped me. Instead he was the one to talk first. He'd overheard me talking about it with Claire and, when I was leaving, he stopped me in the doorway.

"Just look after yourself," he'd said seriously, "okay?"  
"...Yeah," I'd nodded back, feeling uncomfortable and yet glad.

I'd given his a friendly pat on the arm and he'd shaken his head and pulled me into a one armed hug.

"I mean it," he'd reiterated, "even just for Claire's sake if not for your own. Be careful."

We left in a non-descript coach, my life bundled into a long duffel bag. The journey was uneventful but long. I didn't sleep, worried in case I had a nightmare. The therapy had helped, sure, but that didn't mean I still didn't have them now and again. I couldn't imagine a more mortifying way to start my time here than screaming my head off in front of all the new recruits. So instead I looked out the window for the entire journey, watching it speed past.

The coach jolted suddenly and I put my arm out to stop myself crashing into the seat in front. The man next to me, who'd slept for most of the journey, woke up with a start. The scenery outside was nothing spectacular. A large, featureless facility with sprawling grounds sat beside us. I shuffled off the coach with all the other recruits, stretching my atrophied limbs. I'd noticed a few of the recruits eyeing me with interest, some whispering, and realised that this was something that I hadn't yet encountered simply because while I was living in my apartment I hardly ever went out or ended up in crowds of people I didn't know. Claire and myself had been splattered all over the news for a long time after Racoon, so people would know my face. I sighed.

Melissa's words came back to me as we were herded into the facility.

"_The fear isn't real anymore Leon,_" she'd said, "_no more than you make it._"

I could do this.

* * *

**AN:** Um, I've never done an RE fic before so I hope this was okay. I realise that I have changed things to suit my story and it has been an awful long time since I played RE2 so there may be mistakes even when I didn't mean to change things! I will try and research as best I can but some things I just can't seem to find so I have filled in the gaps. Anyways, please review if you have time and let me know what you think.

Maiko


	2. Put Your Hand in the Box

AN: I changed Leon's age for my own purposes in case anyone wonders. I think he was meant to be 21 in RE2, but I made him younger my own twisted purposes nyah ha ha! Anyway, on with the story!

Chapter 1

**Put your Hand in the Box**

I turned to look over my shoulder but there was no one there. This was happening far too often for my liking and I would be damned if I could tell what was causing it. Earlier I had put it down to the fact that I was in a new environment, I was suffering from jet lag and I was still recovering from...from the incident. Now however the feeling of eyes boring into my back had felt substantial enough to be worrying. I shuddered involuntarily, rubbing the back of my neck nervously as I stepped backwards a few times before turning and walking down the corridor. I was late for practice.

"Kennedy! Get in line, you're late!"  
"Sorry sir, it won't happen again," I said back as respectfully as I could.

I stood in line, back ramrod straight. I still wasn't used to this outfit, the screamed orders or the overly stern drill sergeant. Working for a police unit had been disciplined, sure, but never this harsh. It would take some getting used to. I had actually flinched when he'd shouted for which I berated myself silently. Admittedly it hadn't been his harsh tone that had disturbed me, or his false anger, it was the fact that he'd called me by name. Myself and the new recruits had only been here for two days and already he was calling me Kennedy, while he had to consult a register to remember any one else's name. I felt like everyone knew who I was, all because of Racoon City. Thankfully the questions hadn't started yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Today we will be assessing your hand to hand combat skills, after which you will be assigned to your respective classes. Alright, when I call your name come to the front," the Sergeant said authoritatively before he checked the sheet of paper in his hands, "Collins, Harber!"

Two recruits broke from the line and stood to attention on the mat in front of the Sergeant expectantly. The first, Collins, had a heavy tan, short dark hair and was at least a foot taller than Harber who looked like a palate swapped version of the other man; he was pale, blonde and it was easy to see that Collins was more heavily muscled. I watched them both intently.

"Okay gentlemen," the Sergeant said with a wry smile, "the objective is for each pair to try and incapacitate their partner. I don't want to see any funny business, we're here to assess your skills not see you maul each other. Okay, begin when you're ready."

Collins was smirking as he walked to the opposite side of the mat from Harber, flexing his fingers menacingly. Haber simply looked back, expression blank. The stared at each other intently for a few seconds, neither dropping into a fighting stance. I could see Harber tensing when suddenly he moved. He was fast, probably due to his size, and Collins hadn't been expecting it, hadn't seen the tightening of muscles and extra pressure he'd placed on the balls of his feet that I had. He launched a sweeping kick at the larger mans legs which he only just managed to dodge by jumping. However his evasion had left him off balance and Harber took full advantage, pushing up from his crouch to tackle Collins to the ground. I looked up to the Sergeant to gauge his reaction and noticed a man standing behind him, clip board in hand, taking notes. He was tall, blonde hair slicked back, sunglasses obscuring his eyes. I filed his face away until I could find a name to match it, focusing once more on the fight. Harber had effectively neutralised Collins in the short time I had looked away; Harber had the man's arms twisted up his back while he sat with his knee in the small of Collin's back. The latter did not look impressed.

"Alright get up," the Sergeant said lazily, "good job. Collin's get back in line! Next up, Kessinger!"

Kessinger was more of Collin's stature but not quite so broad across the shoulders and chest. The fight seemed to be going in Harber's favour for the first minute, which was longer than the previous fight lasted at least, but when he tried to catch Kessinger's legs in trip manoeuvre the larger man grabbed his arm, put an elbow in his back and threw him to the ground winded. From there he put the man in a stranglehold while restraining Harber's legs and arms. They parted at the Sergeant's call, Harber rubbing his back with a wince but nodding grudgingly to his opponent who lifted his head slightly in reply. As he did so I noticed a thick, jagged scar reaching from the man's jaw line, down over his throat and disappearing under his t-shirt. I blanched at the thought of the wound that must have caused it, so intrigued that I almost missed the Sergeant's next words.

"Kennedy!" although I did notice that, once again, he hadn't consulted his sheet when calling my name; I bristled but didn't let it show, instead walking to the front.

I looked back at Kessinger and was surprised to see the man look slightly worried. What the hell could he possibly have to be worried about? Hell, I was no bigger than Harber in height or build, yet he looked like he had been set up against a guy twice his size. He quickly changed his expression to a blank one however, craning his neck to the left and then the right, shaking out his shoulders and then falling into stance. I followed suit, looking for the weak points in the position of his feet. I stepped forwards and was surprised that he stepped back, expecting it to be in the other direction. I looked back to his face with irritation, noting his hesitation. He must have noticed my reaction because he growled and then launched himself at me without warning, right arm pulled back for a punch, the other held out in front for balance.

I didn't mean for it to happen, I thought I had more control. After all those sessions with Melissa I was sure that I could handle any situation, that it was just my dreams that I had to control. I was wrong. I felt the adrenaline pump through my veins as Kessinger lunged at me and I couldn't help but feel the threat that wasn't there, the thought of death, that if he got a hold on me then it would all be over, everything, I would be _dead_.

I thought on my feet, ducking down under the punch, grabbing his right arm as it sailed over my head, and used his momentum to flip him over my shoulder. He went down hard, another drawback of his size that I was more than happy to take advantage of. My heart raced as he struggled and I felt the need to kill him quickly, before he posed any more of a threat to me. I kept hold of his arm, twisting it painfully while incapacitating his legs with my right leg and pushing into his throat with my left foot. He choked in surprise, eyes wide and I loosened the pressure on reflex at the sound. I felt my eyes widen in horror, hoping no one else had noticed I had tried to...oh god.

Oh god. This feeling. It will never go away, will it? Never.

"Alright Kennedy you can let him up now," I could hear the Sergeant's concern hidden beneath his sarcasm.

I disengaged and held out a hand for Kessinger. He hesitated for a moment, rubbing at his neck, but eventually took hold and let me pull him to his feet. I sighed quietly, relieved, even as he eyed me suspiciously and walked back into the line. Foolishly I chanced a look at the faces of the other recruits, instantly noting their worry at being called out next. Shit, was all I could think. Have I no self control left? I thought savagely. I was in a room full of people and I couldn't separate an everyday training exercise from a kill or be killed situation. Flashes of Racoon City, that's what I'd seen when I fought Kessinger, flashes of bloodshot eyes and rotting flesh, jaws gaping open ready to feed. All I could think, as the next man was called to the front, was that Kessinger was lucky there was someone else here to snap me out of it.

_I shouldn't be here_, I thought desperately, _I'm going to get someone killed, I'm dangerous, I'm a killer..._

I pushed the thoughts away viciously. No, I could control this! I just needed to get myself under control, that's all, once I was used to it, the adrenaline, the sparing, I would be fine. And it did go fine, almost too well, I was beating everyone they sent at me and the Sergeant was eyeing me with interest, as was the man in the sunglasses. Until the sixth fight. The spar went routinely at first and I had him, I had him easily, _without_ feeling that fear, the fear that made my heart stop with the thought that I was going to die...until he managed to get behind me, putting my right arm into a lock, his leg twisting round my own, his other hand coming up to incapacitate my other arm...only he never managed it. My reflexes were startled into action and I panicked, breath catching in my throat –_he's going to kill me!_- sending my elbow back into his face with a sickening crunch. His hold loosened and he stumbled back, clutching his nose, blood pouring down onto his chin. I blanched, eyes wide, shocked at what I had done.

"God, I'm sorry..." I started.  
"Shit," the Sergeant muttered, stepping forwards, "I thought I said to take it easy. Kennedy get back into line, I'll talk to you after! Shaw, take Gross to the medic and hurry up about it."

A man who was standing near the doorway stepped forwards and guided the man named Gross to the exit. I swallowed, feeling nauseous at the thought of a _talk_. Shit, I'd only been here for two days and look, _look_ at my lack of control! I cursed myself silently, hating the way the others eyes followed me warily as I rejoined the line.

* * *

"Get a hold of yourself Kennedy," I muttered as I stood outside the Sergeant's office, falling into the routine I'd used when standing outside Melissa's office.

I knocked and waited for the muffled reply before entering. The Sergeant sat behind a meticulously neat desk, his cool grey eyes focused on a manila folder in his hands as I walked in and stood to attention. He left me there for a moment, flicking his eyes up to me a couple of times before sighing.

"At ease," I relaxed only slightly at his command before he continued, "The report I'm holding in my hands tells me that you're mentally sound Kennedy, is that information I can trust?"

I felt angry at his choice of words, but also guilty at the same time considering I wasn't sure I could answer him truthfully.

"Yes sir," I said after a moment's hesitation, my back still ramrod straight.  
"Calm down son, I'm not here to tear you a new one," he said, eyeing me with interest as he had done earlier, "although you will have to show more restraint from now on when training or I won't be able to keep you on the programme, and that would be a shame."

I'll admit I relaxed more after hearing him say that. I swallowed, watching his movements as he tossed the now closed folder onto his desk. I noticed my name at the top, blazoned onto a white cardboard tab. I wondered how much he knew.

"You're an impressive fighter Kennedy," he continued, pulling my attention back to him, "considering you're a survivor of the Racoon City incident this doesn't surprise me. To get through that you must be one tough son of a bitch. What does surprise me is that your shrink here certified you as stable."

I felt my lips tighten. I am stable now! _-You're not_- . I shivered a little at the mocking voice in my conscience, my own voice, telling me things I didn't want to know.

"That's right sir," I said steadily.  
"Well, Charles Gross' broken nose would dispute that fact," he said with a raised brow.  
"I...I'm sorry Sir," I chastised myself for hesitating, "it was a reflex."  
"I'm not here to dispute your reflexes son," he said clasping his hands, "they're top notch, exactly what we're looking for. It's your ability to control them that's got you standing there talking to me."

I swallowed. What was he asking? That I get myself under control now or I was out? I didn't understand what he wanted from me.

"Sir," I asked trying to sound more confident than I felt, "what do I need to do?"  
"What do you mean?" he looked confused.  
"To stay here. Uh, permission to speak freely sir?," I asked, feeling like an idiot; he nodded back, "I know that I might not seem it but I am a lot better off than when I first got out of Racoon. Hell, you wouldn't recognise me now if you saw me. I'm not going to say that it hasn't affected me because that would be a lie. If you read Doctor Hydan's notes you'll see that I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, but you'll also see the progress I've made. I just need to get back into routine of feeling the adrenaline, I swear to you once I've settled in I won't give you any trouble. If not, I'll go without a word if you order me to."

He looked at me and blinked, seeming impressed yet somehow sad at the same time.

"How old are you son?" he asked seriously.  
"I'm twenty sir," I said, "two months ago."

He shook his head and sighed, rubbing his face roughly with his hand.

"Shit. Rookie's get younger every year," he muttered, looking back to me, "I don't want to see any more broken noses around here, understand Kennedy?"  
"Yes sir," I said, putting as much force into it as I dared.  
"Good," he smiled, making his hard grey eyes soften a little, "you're a good kid, don't let it get to you, alright?

I nodded, feeling confused and relieved and overall exhausted. I'd spent the better part of the afternoon and the evening worrying that I was going to be thrown out on my second day. Thankfully things hadn't gone as badly as I'd thought and it was nice to know that my skills hadn't diminished over the months I'd spent keeping as far away from violence as I could, trying not to think about Racoon. I walked back to the dormitories slowly, not really thrilled about going there either. Each dormitory was split into rooms of six beds and lockers; and I would, of course, be sharing with Kessinger and four others I hadn't been introduced to yet. Shit.

Kessinger was the only one there when I arrived. Sods fucking law. He looked up as I entered and blinked when he saw me, eyeing me for a moment before looking away. I couldn't help but notice the scar again, thick and white, passing nearly over the jugular. He stood self consciously, moving to his locker to start putting his things away, snapping me out of my staring. I closed the door behind me and walked to my bunk. You could have heard a pin drop. Eventually I worked up the nerve to break it.

"Look, I'm sorry," he turned abruptly to look at me, seemingly startled; it looked out of place on such a large man, "about earlier. I didn't mean to get carried away..."  
"No," he shook his head, face breaking into a smirk, "you didn't hurt me or anything, no big deal."

I felt the weight lift off my chest as if it were a physical thing. Well that removed _that_ worry. However he looked back at me with a curious look, making my defence mechanisms spark back into life.

"You're _Leon_ Kennedy, aren't you," he asked.  
"...Yeah," I said, hearing the monotone element slipping into my voice, "that's right."  
"No way," he said, eyes lighting up as he walked over to my bed to regard me closely, "and here I'd always thought you'd be seven feet tall with muscles that could crush a steel can in one hand!"  
"Uh, right," I said with a frown, feeling decidedly exposed.  
"Sorry," he laughed, face becoming disturbingly friendly, "I didn't mean to intimidate you or anything, it's just I heard about Racoon City, you know? I couldn't believe anyone surviving that after all those people were killed, and yet you got out, you and that girl. That's why I wasn't surprised when you got one over on me, I thought to myself, Victor, this guy must be one tough motherfucker so you'd better watch your back."

I looked at him, unblinking. He noticed my reaction and laughed, slapping me hard on the arm to startle me out of staring. I coughed and smiled back uncertainly.

"Sorry kid, I talk too much, just ignore me. Oh hey, haven't properly introduced myself yet have I? Victor Kessinger," he said offering his hand.  
"Leon Kennedy," I said shaking it firmly.  
"Seems a bit arbitrary now, doesn't it, but never mind," he joked, "still, nice to meet you. It's gonna be fun, right?"

Right, I thought, nodding, placing my hand on my hip and the other in my hair. It felt strange, this sudden turnaround when before I'd been so sure that things had already gone horribly wrong. The other four guys who shared the room turned up half an hour later, introducing themselves as Chad Walker, Brendon Whetford, Michael Kohler and Greg Huntington. It felt surreal in a way, meeting all these new people at once. I felt like I was back at the police academy. Except this time everyone knew who I was, and I'd already been through hell and spat back out again. This was probably as close to normal as I was going to get.


	3. And Pick Up the Knife

Authors note: Just to say that I took heavy influence from Firewolf's fanfiction for the fight between Krauser and Leon in this chapter. Full credit, as Firewolf's fic's actually got me into this pairing in the first place too!

Chapter 2

**And Pick Up the Knife**

Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye. I'd never noticed the difference until it was presented to me; before my days had been long simply because I had little to do, but now, well, if you weren't doing something you generally had someone on your ass asking you why.

My hand to hand combat skills weren't the only thing that my Sergeant had been impressed with; my weapons knowledge and aptitude and even my tactical knowledge was enough to have him put me into some advanced classes. It felt good, but at the same time it was a little intimidating. I think the older vets thought a green rookie like me had no place being in a class with them at all. Until they saw what I could do.

"The fuck did they train you kid?" Gowan's, one of the assessors from tactical weaponry, asked me after class one day as we sat in the cafeteria.  
"Didn't you know?" Kessinger said with a grin, "Kennedy got his first day in Racoon City, the night it all went down."

I don't think Gowan's looked at me the same way after that. In fact most of the rookie's and the vets alike had seemed to fall into two camps when it came to how they interacted with me: awe or respect. I hadn't known how to handle the awe at first, it was just plain weird. The respect I was simply thankful for, glad that as of yet I hadn't come up against any resistance. Even Gross, after I apologised for the hundredth time, told me that it didn't matter and that if I apologised one more time he'd return the favour. Then he'd asked me to join their table for lunch and bombarded me with questions about the advanced classes I had been put into. Gross was a gun nut, but he was a friendly enough gun nut.

It unnerved me, sometimes, how well I got on with everyone. I found myself waiting for conflict at every turn, every new face, but it never seemed to come. I studied, I trained, I ate and spent downtime playing ball or cards or just talking with my roommates. It was like some sort of parallel universe where everything goes right without you knowing how or why. All I could think was that, after Racoon, I must have built up a hell of a lot of Karma to spend and I was spending it now.

I e-mailed Claire every couple of days. She'd made me promise to give her updates so she didn't have to worry. I wasn't sure how to field the accusations that I had a secret girlfriend, until they found out she was the girl who had lived through Racoon with me. Once Kessinger got hold of the photograph I kept, of me, Claire and Chris, he wouldn't let it go. He passed it round and from then on they all just hassled me for her phone number every time I mailed her. One time I actually got the chance to call her but I'm not sure if she managed to hear me over the wolf whistles from my bunk mates. Assholes, but I had to laugh when I told them that the tall guy in the photo was her very over protective big brother who just happened to have once been a member of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team. Yeah, that shut them up.

Things were finally settling down. It was during the third week, during advanced combat class, that things changed.

"Get your weapons ready gentlemen, and I'd rather you were a little careful, don't want to cut yourselves," the assessor, Graves, said with a smirk; he was an older man, grey peppered short black hair and a scar over his right eye, "Kennedy, get up here."

He'd started me off on some of the basic techniques of the class while the older students paired off against each other and went thought the motions. When he asked me to get my knife he'd been happy when I'd produced a two sided blade, just like he used himself. It was just standard issue for the unit I'd been assigned to in the R.P.D. I'd told him, and he seemed to sober at that. I cursed myself and tried to remember not to ever bring _it _up if it didn't need brining up.

"My daughter, she lived in Racoon," he said quietly, flipping his knife back and forth between his hands, his eyes focusing on the space between, "never got her body back. Maybe, one of these days, you'll sit me down over a bottle of whiskey and tell me what really happened, eh Kennedy?"  
"Sir," I nodded unsurely, feeling ill at the thought of reliving any of the events to someone who'd lost a family member.  
"Right," he smiled sadly, "sorry kid, let's get on with this."

He taught me a more advanced blocking technique that ended with a punch to the face, blocking to evade, rolling while keeping an eye on the target. I think I learned more in that one hour than I had in my entire combat class in the academy. My adrenaline was high and I was sweating with the exertion of keeping up, but I felt great. I was getting used to the negative reinforcement he used.

"You can do better than that Kennedy! Don't be such a pussy, come at me like you mean it!"

Yeah, he was a little overenthusiastic like that, but it made things interesting. We had moved on to a sort of mock test in which he asked me to demonstrate the techniques I'd learned on him with a dummy knife. It was heavier and unwieldy compared to my own slimmer knife but I was managing to compensate. I was so focused that I hadn't even noticed that someone else had entered the room, even as the other students began talking excitedly among themselves. Graves finally stopped me and I blinked, breaking myself out of my focus.

"Well if it isn't Jack," he said to someone standing behind me; I whipped around to get a look, not feeling comfortable with a stranger at my back, and found myself looking up, "where they been keeping you holed up?"

He must have been at least a foot taller than me, short blonde hair pulled back tight against his skull, arms like fricking tree trunks. He looked like he could snap me in half if he sneezed too hard in my general direction. He eyes me for a moment as if confused, but then talked right over my head to Graves. Awkward.

"Yeah, well, no talking about the mission and all that, eh Paul?" he scanned over the students and then back to me, "new recruits?"  
"Just this one," Graves said with a laugh, which I realised I'd never heard him do until then.  
"Yeah," he said, blue eyes focused on me with interest, "pretty good for a Rookie, what's your name kid?"  
"Leon Kennedy," I didn't tag a title onto the end as I had no clue who this guy was; I felt as if I should say 'sir' considering everyone seemed awed by his presence and Graves was treating him as an equal, but it just didn't seem right.  
"Hmm," he narrowed his eyes a little but a smirk played at the corner of his mouth, "_that_ Kennedy huh? Well, how about we up the training programme for today. What do you say Graves, give the celebrity a one on one trial run?"

Celebrity. The word made my eyes narrow in silent acceptance of any challenge he was throwing down. Hadn't I proven myself as more than that already? Who the hell was this jackass to walk in and chalk my skills up to my notoriety? Graves seemed to hesitate but this guy, Jack, he simply snorted out a laugh. He pulled out his own knife from its holster, shining in the artificial light of the hall. The recruits shifted uneasily and Graves tried to put up a protest that, for some reason, this guy managed to talk down.

"Oh come on Paul, the Rookie can take it," he joked, "I'll be careful."  
"I don't think that's such a great idea..." Graves began.  
"What, don't trust me now?" he'd said.  
"It's fine," I'd said, my tone steady and confrontational; I tried to quell the adrenaline, feeling the danger.

I put down the training blade and unstrapped my double edged blade from my harness. We squared off against each other from across one of the training mats. I dropped into stance, noticing Graves shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. Who was this man, that had enough clout with the assessors? No Leon, I thought, focus, this guy isn't playing around, show him what you're made of.

His knife was longer, but only single edged. An advantage and a drawback depending on what situation I we ended up in. I would just have to make sure it was always in my favour. We stood, observing each other for another half a minute. I moved first, trying to duck down under his defences, but noticed just in time as he brought the knife down to jab at my exposed side. He grinned as I spun away, but I couldn't tell if he was impressed at my agility or simply mocking me for taking the fake opening in the first place. He took the next initiative, trying for a sweep towards my face, which I blocked with a quick backhand, followed by a slice across my torso, which I managed to step back from just in time. My frustration began to rise. Was this guy taunting me?

I moved back before he managed to set up his footing again, aiming for his side, he grabbed my hand by the wrist, his reflexes lightning quick and, I can't explain it, I felt that danger again, surging against the barriers I'd tried to put in place to hold the feelings back. His grip was like a vice and I felt my hold on my blade loosen. I twisted my wrist to the right and down to have him disengage before slashing at his exposed shoulder. He blocked it easily, but didn't seem to anticipate my going on the attack. He even had the good grace to look surprised when I jabbed towards his sternum, deflecting my blade with a quick flick of his wrist, the sound of metal on metal grating through the silent room. He came back with a cut towards my side, which I rolled to the side to avoid, throwing myself up into his torso to try and get him to stumble so I could...then he managed to get a hold of my arm, I was tight up close to his chest and his breath in my face, all I could see were his eyes, narrowed in concentration, but it could have been anger and, god, the heat I could feel, the _heat_ it was so close and I could see the pale glint on the blade as it came round for another stabbing slice at my exposed arm and, that hand it was tight around my own I could feel...

-_Kill him, before he kills you_-

...come on Kennedy, what does your training count for if you can't even get these people out of the city? Are you going to let this monster kill you? Are you going to let it end like this? What about Claire? She's relying on you, they're all relying on you, you can't let it end here, not now. Kill this fucking monstrosity and get the fuck out of the city!

With a shout I grabbed my blade from my incapacitated hand, deflecting his blow, taking a sick sort of pleasure in his look of shock, before I brought the knife up towards his face. I thought I heard someone calling my name but I ignored it. He managed to let go and duck back in time, or what I had thought had been in time. His growl of pain brought me out of my flashback like being submerged in ice cold water. I stood there, panting like I'd run a mile, staring at the blade in my hand in horror as the red drops slid to the tip and dropped off slowly. I felt Graves pull me round by the shoulder as my opponent clamped his right hand over his face while the blood ran through his fingers. He stared at me with his right eye, anger blazing, teeth gritted. I couldn't look away, feeling the look of abject mortification and sorrow on my face.

"Put the knife down Kennedy," I heard Graves say, and I dropped it without argument.  
"I didn't mean...god I'm sorry I..." I couldn't get any more out.  
"Just be quiet," he said, voice neutral, his hand clamped over my shoulder, "Harper get the god damn medic for Krauser and hurry up about it! Jack, sit the hell down over there and keep pressure on the wound."

It was like coming down from a high. I felt the world slowly slipping back into reality, racing down from the adrenaline. I wasn't there, it wasn't _real_. This was real. God damn it, how I didn't wish this was real. Graves led me over to one of the seats that lined the wall and guided me onto it. He must have noticed how out of it I was because his voice became calm, just as we'd been taught to use in training for people who had gone into shock.

"Just stay here, okay kid? We'll get this sorted out," he turned to the other students, "Alright everyone, this isn't a free show, everyone out, come on move it!"

Fuck it. What the fuck use am I here if I can't hold it together under the pressure. I put my face in my hands and breathed deeply. God damn it, the second person I'd fucking wounded since I got here. Only been here three weeks and I'd put two people in the medical wing. I didn't realise just how long I'd sat there trying to sort my head out until Graves shook my shoulder to get my attention. I looked up slowly, noticing that the room was empty but for us.

"Sergeant Howes needs to talk to you," he said gravely.  
"Of course," my voice was steady but detached, I stood and followed him to the door, "I guess we won't be having our talk about Racoon then sir. Believe me, you wouldn't want to have heard it anyway. Some horror isn't made for sharing."

He looked shocked. I couldn't tell if it was my words or the look in my eyes, which I'm sure looked far older than twenty. I walked quickly and efficiently to the Sergeant's office, feeling the odd sense of déjà vu from three weeks earlier. There was no excusing this, I thought numbly, I really am too dangerous to keep now. I could have killed him if he hadn't ducked back from that knife blow. I had been aiming to slice his damn head in half, destroy his brain. God damn it, I had _wanted_ to kill him.

I raised my hand to knock at the Sergeant's door but stopped when I heard voices from within. I listened hard

"Dammit Jack, what the hell were you thinking?" the Sergeant sounded pissed as all hell, "The kid is trying his best to settle in, get over the trauma, and then you waltz in and fuck around with our carefully arranged training? What the fuck were you thinking?"  
"How the hell was I supposed to know he was that dangerous? Look at the size of him!" another voice, gruff, which I recognised as the man I was sure I'd heard Graves call Krauser.  
"You should know better than to judge someone by their size," the Sergeant barked back, "and the kid's got issues. You know about his history right? He's recovering from PTSD. Graves said he noticed the change in him not long before he nearly decapitated you."  
"Yeah," Krauser sounded contemplative and resigned, "I kinda caught it too late to do anything about it. Look in his eye, I was surprised he didn't kill me."  
"Yeah, well think yourself lucky then," the Sergeant said.

I took advantage of the natural break intheir conversation and knocked, waiting for the reply before entering. I walked to the front of the Sergeant's desk, not entirely happy as I'd expected us to be alone for this interview. Instead I found, to my dismay, that it was indeed the man I had wounded who was sitting in one of the chairs, thick plasters holding together the stitched skin. I blanched as he looked at me, an unreadable look in his eye. I looked back to the Sergeant quickly.

"Take a seat Kennedy," the Sergeant sounded tired.  
"Sir," I said stiffly, sitting just as rigidly.  
"You know why you're here," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Krauser, "I thought you said we weren't going to have to deal with any more incidents."  
"Sorry sir," I said tightly, not having any excuses this time.  
"Well, considering the circumstances, I'm just glad the damage wasn't more severe," he said, glaring at Krauser as he spoke, to which the other simply snorted and looked away.  
"What now, sir?" I asked, sounding more hollow than I'd anticipated; I shook head lightly, I needed to be more in control of the situation.  
"Well, considering Krauser here told me the details, we're not going to dismiss you," my eyes snapped to him, widening, had I heard him right? "But you are going to have to see the on base psychiatrist, every week, until we think that we've helped you through this. Understand?"  
"Yes sir," I said, breathing deeply, amazed that I'd managed to dodge the bullet once again, "but may I request that it be Doctor Hydan that performs the session?"  
"I don't know about that, let me look into it alright?" he said kindly, "Look Kennedy, you just need to get a handle on this. Show us that you're trying and we'll help you, we're not all cold bastards who just want to see you perform. We want our recruits to be healthy, physically and mentally. We'll get you through this, and then we'll see about continuing with your programme, okay?"  
"Yes sir," I nodded, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with Krauser glancing at me out of the corner of his eye every few minutes, "thank you, sir."

He nodded back, telling me that I was to report to him tomorrow at 1200 hours to receive further instructions in regards to my schedule. Until then I was on free time but I wasn't to go off base. I stood to leave, managed to make it to the door, but felt the guilt seeping in at the edges until it was rolling around in my stomach making me feel sick. I stopped, hand on the door handle, and turned to look at Krauser who was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands joined, staring at the floor.

"Krauser," I said, and he looked up, a little startled, maybe because I'd used him name, maybe because he'd been lost in thought, "I'm really sorry, I mean it, I never meant to go that far. I'm sorry."

Then, feeling like a complete ass, I opened the door and left quickly, closing it behind me with a snap replete with cowardice. Fuck, how many lives did I have left in this place? I was going through them at a rate of knots, if I kept this up I wouldn't last another week. I meandered back to my room, feeling like a complete fool. What the hell had I been thinking taking that guy up on his insane idea of a knife fight anyway? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that it was my pride that had gotten me into this mess in the first place. I had thought I needed to prove myself to the cocky bastard that thought I was hiding behind my name to get ahead in my training, but instead I probably just set myself back months of hard earned sanity which I would now have to go through weeks of therapy with some fucking stranger to regain.

Great.

Kessinger was once again the only guy in the room when I entered, completing my feeling of déjà vu. He was lying on the bed reading a magazine, but sat up when I entered, looking at me solemnly.

"Hey man," he said, trying to gauge my mood, "everything alright?"  
"Yeah," I nodded, "well no, uh...I kind of got into a fight earlier on and, well, it's a little complicated."  
"Hell, I got that much, the stories spread all over the base, but there are too many versions to count and I couldn't count on any of them to be real," Kessinger said, shaking his head, "what really happened Leon?"

Kessinger had taken to calling me by my first name, and in a way it was kind of reassuring. Up until now everyone else just called me 'Kennedy'. It was only Claire, Chris and my mother that ever called me Leon.

"Graves was training us in hand to hand with combat knives. Some guy, his name is Jack Krauser, he came in and practically forced Graves into letting us have a fight to test my skills. Like an idiot I took it as an insult, I agreed and ended it by slitting his face open," I saw Kessinger wince, "they haven't kicked me out yet, but I have to jump through some hoops first."  
"Like what?" he asked as I stripped off my t-shirt and routed around in my locker for something clean.  
"Shrink," I shrugged, pulling out a clean t-shirt and a hoodie to stave off the slight chill in the air.  
"They think it's PTSD, you know, from your journey through hell?" Kessinger liked to call it that, and I couldn't correct him considering it was pretty damn accurate.  
"Yeah..." I said, hesitating as I pulled the soft, clean hoodie over my head, working my arms into the sleeves, "...and I guess they aren't wrong."

Kessinger gave me a sympathetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck. I sat down on my bunk and tried not to think about Krauser's face, all held together with white plasters and metal stitches. I shivered, rubbing my right arm, imagining I could feel the scarred skin underneath. Kessinger's voice broke me out of my stupor.

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me how you got that scar," he said, indicating to the spot I was rubbing at.  
"Likewise," I smirked back, tapping at my throat where Kessinger's answering scar stood out against his tanned skin.  
"Yeah," he chuckled, eyeing me intently, eyes flicking down and back up, "touché."

I looked away, feeling a little awkward.

"Don't let them get to you Leon," I heard Kessinger lie back down on his bunk, "Damn you're in more advanced classes than any new recruit has the right to be, if anyone deserves to be here, it's you."  
"Thanks," I said quietly, leaning back against the covers, feeling the exhaustion steal over me.

It had been so long since I'd had the nightmares that I didn't even see it coming. The events played out behind my eyes without my consent. Dark alleyways crawling with death. Claire's terrified face. I thought I saw Grave's daughter, groaning as she dragged her rotting corpse across the street towards me, even though I knew there was no way I could have ever seen her, let alone known it was her. I hadn't intended to dream about it, but I still woke up screaming anyway.

**An:** Wow, I just do not want to give Leon a break...poor guy. Okay, let me know what you think if you have the time. Thanks for reading, toodles!

Maiko


	4. Then Find Your Target

**Chapter 4**

**Then Find Your Target**

Albert Wesker had always been a careful man. From a young age he had learned that a person's reputation can take them far further than their ability ever could. His father had taught him that, the hard way. Perhaps his mother had borne the brunt of it, but Albert never forgot a useful experience, no matter how inappropriately it was gained. He had decided on his own that reputation would never be enough, so in the end he'd decided to combine it with his abilities. That was what slid him perfectly into the niche needed in Umbrella, his unequalled scientific ability, that carved him perfectly into the scientist needed to inspire Birkin to murder and mutiny, his ability to read people and manipulate them accordingly, into the perfect STARS captain who no one would even consider questioning, his authority, his disarming nature, his proficiency with firearms and hand to hand combat. In this current situation his unique abilities, which he prided himself on, combined with keeping his rather unique reputation low profile had served to initiate him back into the governments employ without so much as a simple alias and a handpicked team of researchers and one man's hunger for power and money.

His was a reputation that didn't need to knock before entering, although that usually didn't sit well with whomever's door was being opened.

"Sergeant Howes," he said as he approached the man's desk, stopping a few feet away, ignoring his irritation and subsequent 'what the hell do you...', "I want Kennedy's assessment report and his profile, in fact, it would be better if you just gave me everything."  
"Close that door," the Sergeant growled, glaring.

That made Wesker smile, well not smile, he wasn't sure if he ever did that anymore. Smirk was more appropriate. He walked casually back towards the door at his own pace, setting the parameters of dominance. The door closed with an audible click.

"How very paranoid you sound Sergeant," he said, readjusting his sunglasses; he'd done it on purpose of course, but then Albert Wesker never did anything without a purpose, "I do hope our little deal isn't making you nervous in any way."  
"Listen Wesker..." the Sergeant said, leaning forwards on his desk and pointing a rather rude finger in Wesker's direction.  
"Please, I'd rather you got into the habit of calling me Smith," Wesker's smirk deepened as he silently appreciated the irony of his alias, "we don't want you saying anything you'd regret in front of the wrong people now do we?"  
"Whatever your name is then!" the Sergeant snapped, somehow keeping his voice authoritative even in the low decibel levels, "Don't think that you can walk around like you own the place. I got you in here, remember that, you owe _me_. I'd hope you'd have some respect for that. And you shouldn't even be up here, I said you should call me on the secure line and I will come down to the lab to see..."  
"Yes I understood your message," Wesker drawled out, sighing, "but this couldn't wait. I need that information immediately, it's vital to my plans."

The Sergeant looked at Wesker and Wesker looked back through the darkness that had always comforted him. He'd never liked artificial lighting, but it was a necessary evil of laboratory work, and a man of his genius needed as few distractions as possible when working with highly hazardous biomaterial. The sunglasses had stuck, from the early days, and he'd begun to enjoy the further benefits. The lack of emotion they afforded him by hiding his eyes, the fear and anxiety he could create by taking them off to reveal the glowing amber beneath, to name but a few. He was enjoying benefit number one right now as the Sergeant strove to read him.

"I thought you said you wanted me to work out Kennedy's kinks a little before you did anything," Howes said with a frown.  
"There is always work to be done in the meantime," Wesker cocked his head to the side and took a few steps towards the desk, placing his hands on it and leaning forwards, casually threatening, "you don't need to know the particulars of my work though, Sergeant. As you said, you got me in here, I wouldn't want to bore you with inane scientific details that would surely be far over your head."

The Sergeant's eyes narrowed and Wesker decided it was the optimum moment to drop the smirk. He leaned a little closer, noting the hesitant movement that Howes took, trying not to back away, show weakness. It made Wesker feel warm inside, one of the few things that did anymore. He took off his sunglasses and took a long moment to watch Howes swallow and try not to back away in what he assumed was disgust.

"Kennedy is going to give me what I want," he said calmly, "you don't need to know anything more than that. You'll reap your benefits from my experiment soon enough, you don't need to worry about that. The files, if you please."

Howes practically threw them at him, but managed to assemble some form of restraint that had him pushing the files forcefully at Wesker's chest. Wesker didn't move a millimetre, absorbing the shock of the blow like a brick wall, liking the confusion and worry that flickered through Howes' eyes before his gruff, Sergeant mask fell back into place; it told Wesker that Howes' hadn't quite known just what he was getting himself into, even though he'd known just what Wesker was. Human greed was a powerful emotion, as was pride, but, unlike Howes who only saw what was right in front of his face at any given time, Wesker knew how to treat both personality traits with enough respect and cunning to make them work. Albert Wesker was nothing, if not careful.

He exited the Sergeant's office, leaving the door open just to see if the spite would create a reaction in his body, in his mind. It didn't, he didn't feel the small victorious glow he used to. Perhaps it was too human a feeling for his brain to comprehend any more. Fear, that it still understood, fed from, pain, longing, lust, power. Not love, but then he was still in debate over whether he'd ever possessed that ability in the first place. The elevator took him down, seven floors under the earth, where everyone was decked in sterile white and didn't make eye contact with anyone else as they walked around, absorbed in their work. Just the way he liked it. The experiment was shaping up nicely, and the data would be vital in his understanding of the particulars of this wonderful new organism he had created. Howes would get what was coming to him, that much Wesker was sure of, and Kennedy would give him the ability to test it against someone who had fought the T-Virus and come out unscathed. Yet, even though he was so very close to realising a crucial stage in his overall plan, there was something else, there was something new that was eating away at him, making him quicken his steps as he walked, made his breathing speed up ever so slightly, made him open the door a little more forcefully than he usually would.

Some days he walked into his lab expecting to see Birkin sitting at the closed enviro-cases, manipulating the viruses within while his eyes gleamed with concentration and mania. He attributed it to remnants of memory and emotion left over from his human mind. Some days he didn't. Today was one of those days; perhaps, he thought as he sat down gracefully into his black leather chair and looked at the open report held before him, it was because he had found an adequate distraction.

_In the time after the Racoon City incident Kennedy initially abided with Claire Redfield and her brother Christopher Redfield until he..._

The feeling was unmistakeable. He felt it start deep down in some unnameable place, somewhere _deep_ down.

_...abided with Claire Redfield and her brother Christopher Redfield..._

It travelled, up into his lungs, making him take a deep breath, into his fingers, as they curled into the thick cardboard of the folder, bending it, shaping it...

_...brother Christopher Redfield..._

Into his brain, into his mind's eye, as he saw clear as day that face, those blue-grey eyes alight with anger and hatred and hatred and hatred and...

"Ah Christopher," he said much more calmly than he felt, "how I've missed you."

**AN:** Sorry about the change to 3rd person, but this little snippet obviously couldn't come from Leon's POV. Argh, I just can't keep Wesker out of this story, I tried, believe me I tried to keep focusing on the main plot! But it's hard to ignore him really...so yes, this is very AU now, oops. Gonna be fecking around with the canon to no end, even more than I thought by the looks of things. Please r&r and let me know what you think.

Ps: To firewolfsg – Yes, I've read your fics and I love them! That's what inspired me to write this in the first place, especially since there isn't that much fiction out there for this sort of time period (I credited you, didn't want to steal it). Thanks for the review though, it's always encouraging!


	5. Watch how He Moves

**Chapter 4**

**Watch how He Moves**

If Jack Krauser hadn't been in my life before, he sure as hell was now. I couldn't round a corner without running into him, sometimes literally. I saw him in the mess hall, I saw him during practice in the advanced classes. I was beginning to get that itchy feeling again, that someone was watching me, the same feeling I'd had when I first arrived at the facility. Now it was worse, like an itching at the back of my mind that was driving me to distraction. I thought it was him, Krauser, but half the time I wasn't even sure anymore. The nightmares were back and the Sergeant had called me in to say that Mellissa was being allowed into the facility to give me weekly sessions until she declared me fit again. She was bound to ask me about my breaks, especially the one with Krauser and, in all truth, I didn't want to talk about it. I was avoiding him like the plague for a reason, even though it didn't seem to be doing me much good.

The assessors were acting wary of me again. I thought I'd worked it out of them, by impressing them, by being friendlier than they'd expected me to be, less of a head-case than they'd expected me to be. Now I felt I was back to square one, with everyone just waiting for me to break down again. I was beginning to question why Howes had even considered keeping me on the first place. It was almost as if he had some ulterior motive.

'_Christ Kennedy,'_ I thought ruefully as I shook my head, _'paranoid much?'_

Kessinger was a useful guy to have around, I found out very quickly. He was a walking human distraction. I started brooding, he'd suggest a ten laps around the field (which also kept the assessors happy), I start staring off into space, he challenges me to a game of cards, I wake up screaming, he's got hold of my shoulder saying 'you're safe Leon, you're safe' in a voice so authoritative I have to believe it, even through the haze of fear. Yet, on top of mothering me, he also had a wicked sense of humour, a competitive streak a mile wide, the best fastball I'd ever seen and an air of mystery that kept my interest. I still hadn't been able to get him to talk about the scar and, in a fit of spite, I'd refused any of his advances about mine. In a way it'd become an in joke, which the other guys took as entertainment.

The next time I phoned Claire she informed me that she had pulled her brother out of the stone-age and bought him a lap top with a web cam. So the next time we spoke I got to see her smiling face, which helped more than she knew. I had felt, in the month since I'd started here and especially after the two incidents, the cold, unemotional, ineffectual side of my personality creeping back in; the one which had got me through Racoon. Claire had seen it, maybe even just in the way I found it hard to say 'hello' with any inflection in my voice. She'd soon pummelled that out of me though, with her continuous barrage of information about what she'd been up to, her endless enthusiasm, forcing Chris to sit down and talk too. Not that he minded talking, he just hated the web cam.

"Heard things have been a little rough on you," Chris said, scratching the back of his neck, looking me right in the eye.  
"You heard right," I said back, feeling instantly defensive.  
"I'm not getting at you," he frowned, "just wanna make sure you're...alright, y'know? Claire worries and I need to know if she should or not."  
"I'm fine," I lied, "she doesn't need to worry."  
"Okay," he said, nodding his assent, smiling a little, "no need to be so defensive. Look, she really wants to come up and visit you, wants you to show her around town the next time you're on sabbatical. I thought we could both make it up, what d'you think?"  
"Sounds great," I said, forcing a smile, "take my mind off things at least."  
"Right," he said, shrugging his shoulders in defeat "she's driving me crazy, can't stop her talking about it. She's got it all planned out you understand, don't think you'll have any choice in the matter."  
"I get you," I laughed, genuinely for once, "wouldn't be Claire if I did."  
"Yeah," Chris said, laughing back.

Claire had arranged to come up in a week. We had a day off before that, but she hadn't been able to book tickets in time, much to her chagrin. So Kessinger, instead, had the great idea of going out and getting completely out of our faces drunk, to which everyone had agreed. I'd been happy at the thought of getting a good hard drink, but also because it would get me off base and drastically reduce the chances of my running into Krauser. We'd gone to a local bar, which Whetford had suggested as he was the only local, and proceeded to drink the place dry in a matter of hours. It was a nice place, reminded me of home. Small, quiet, dimly lit, smelling of beer and cigarettes and cheap perfume.

One by one they bugged out, Kohler first, falling asleep on the table and being quickly labelled a lightweight, Whetford next, who ended up refusing to drink anymore. Huntington and Walker were on a par, both knowing when to stop so that they could still easily get the other two home in one piece. It was Kessinger and myself who had both no self control or want to stop. So it ended up me and him, still in some reckless drinking competition, laughing our asses off every time someone spilt their drink, burning away our hard earned cash just to buy some piece of mind, after the others had headed back to base.

"Christ Kennedy who taught you how't drink?" Kessinger slurred, "You're little sister?"  
"I don't have a sister," I managed to annunciate, "but if I did she'd probably drink you under the table."  
"O-oh," Kessinger sing-songed, lifting his glass in a mock salute, "touché."

He knocked back another shot. I looked down into my empty shot glass, thinking about the severe hangover we were going to have tomorrow. I looked up to the whiskey bottle, still a quarter full, on the table. Fuck it. I was probably going to get kicked out at some point anyway, so who gave a good god damn what I did? I felt good, better than I had in a long time, happy even, and I liked it, that feeling, missed it. Who cares if it's just the drink, right?

"So you gonna tell me yet?" Kessinger's voice broke me out of my thoughts.  
"'Bout what?" I asked.  
"About what, he asks," Kessinger rolled his eyes, gesturing vaguely with his right hand, "the scar numbnuts!"  
"The hell I am," I replied with a look of incredulity, reaching for the bottle to refill my glass, "if you think I'm going first you got another thing coming Vic."

He looked at me through concentration narrowed eyes, like he was too drunk to see me properly (which wasn't unlikely), before smiling and shaking his head. He looked away, licked his lips, and then leaned in on the table and laughed shortly.

"Y'know what, screw it, I'm just too fucking curious for my own good," he said grinning, "and I guess I'm at my limit cause if I don't know it's gonna bug me forever. So I'll go first, happy?"

He could never understand how much I wasn't. If he gave me his story, then I'd have to give him mine. I'd been happy when it was just a joke between us, a friendly rivalry of sorts, I'd never thought he'd actually _tell_ me his story, which is why I didn't have to worry about telling mine. Now I was going to have to think something up, quick, so I didn't have to tell him how I really got the scar that had been caused by the wayward claws of an eight foot Licker.

"So my dad," Kessinger was talking and I tried to listen while forcing my drink addled brain to think, "he died when I was four. He was in the military, y'know, family traditions an' all that. Anyway, mom had her assortment of boyfriends, most of them assholes. She went for guys like dad yeah? But none of 'em were honourable like he was, so they used to beat on her, take her money, whatever."

I felt the drink slowly seeping out of my mind, Kessinger's drunken confession making me feel horribly guilty for thinking about the fact that I was going to have to lie to him about my own scar.

"One night, I was seven...no, eight I think, yeah eight," he continued, "I got sick fed up of all the bullshit. So I got in the way, when one of those assholes was hitting her, shoved him into a glass coffee table, cut up his arm real bad. Not that I felt sorry you understand! Was just unfortunate that it gave him ammo. He picked up a shard of it and lashed out, caught me right across the throat, nearly chopped my damn head off, stupid son of a bitch. I mean hell, who does that to an eight year old kid, eh? Was in hospital for like, a month."

He stopped to snatch the bottle from my frozen hand, eyes brightening up after they'd glazed over a little towards the end of his story. He smirked at my look of horror and pity.

"Ah don't look at me like that," he shrugged, pouring another shot, "but you gotta tell me yours now."

_Tell him_, a traitorous part of my mind goaded me, _you should tell him. He deserves it, he's your friend._

Fuck this, fuck it! Why should I have to hide myself away? For Umbrella's sake? Like I would ever do anything to cover up for those bastards. Only no one ever believed us, me and Claire, no one ever believed Chris or Jill either. The drink slowly swam back into play and I felt an insane sense of safety when I stared into Kessinger's honest eyes.

_Do it_, it said, _do it._

"It was..." I hesitated, not sure how to start, "Racoon."  
"I kinda guessed that much," Kessinger scoffed, shoving me playfully, "come on Kennedy, you never talk about it. Spit it out, it'll make you feel better!"

I swallowed, downing the shot he poured for me, feeling it numb the fear and the anxiety.

"You know it was my first day, right?" he nodded, "Well, things went wrong real quick. Let's just say that I didn't make it to the police station straight away, but when I did, well...everyone was dead. I've never smelt anything like it since, that stench, it was everywhere. Blood smeared up the walls but no bodies, rooms left empty like moments in time, coffee cups half empty, computers till on, lunches half eaten..."

Kessinger was looking at me with a slight frown, but his eyes urged me to continue. I took a breath. Everything was coming back into the forefront. He hadn't interrupted, asked any questions yet, and for that I was glad.

"It was safe inside, or safer anyway, that's what I'd thought," I continued, looking away from him, staring at the reflections playing on the bottle, "but I was still on alert. Hard not to be really, even though the place was so empty. Some of the doors were locked, so I went to look for a key. It was so black outside the window, so dark I thought I saw something move, but it was only my reflection. So I ignored it, kept going, through the door and down the hallway. That's where I saw it, the first body in the whole place."

The light in the room fooled me, made me think about that wide corridor in the R.P.D. headquarters, the metallic tang of the perfume substituting the stench of blood. I gripped my glass harder, forcing myself back to the present. Kessinger was still staring at me, but I couldn't read his emotion.

"The blood was everywhere," I said softly, "and the body had no head. Just lay there, arms splayed out, neck open. I was so repelled by it, yet I couldn't look away. I had my gun out but...but I was so distracted that I didn't see it until it was on me. I think it must have been on the ceiling, waiting for an ambush. Fucking thing moved like lightning, got me right in the shoulder, clawing me down my arm. I didn't even feel it, I was so fucking terrified. Took a whole two clips before it went down."

I took my bottom lip into my teeth and pulled, feeling the flesh splay out. I blinked and looked down into my glass, feeling like an idiot. What the fuck was I thinking, saying this stuff? He was going to think I was completely fucking insane, either that or hate me because he would think I was lying after he'd been so truthful. The alcohol was making me feel sick now, the pleasant buzz had gone altogether. I let go of the glass before I broke it, standing suddenly, still not looking at Kessinger.

"I don't feel so good," I said hurriedly before rushing to the bathroom.

The stalls smelled slightly of disinfectant and were thankfully empty, although I didn't throw up. I just needed to be out of there, out of that space I'd created that seemed so like Racoon but wasn't. What the hell was wrong with me? Did a little drink, okay well _a lot_ of drink, make me this fucking reckless? Did I ever want to be taken seriously again in my lifetime? Then maybe I should stop talking about Racoon fucking city! That hellhole where Umbrella tested a biological weapon on a whole fucking city and then covered it up as if it was nothing. Nothing! Fucking bastards killed thousands and they just walked away without a scratch, nothing! Nothing! NOTHING! I didn't even realise I'd been punching the wall until Kessinger was there, pulling me back, turning me round to shake me by the shoulders.

"Leon, get a hold of yourself," he said, a little wobbly on his feet but sober enough, "hey!"  
"I'm sorry," I said, panting, "I'm sorry I..."  
"What the hell are you apologising for?" he said, bewildered.  
"I don't know anymore," I said, letting my head drop forwards, bringing my hands up slowly to hide my face, "I wasn't made for this...this...god I don't know."  
"Hey, come on," he said, shaking me again, less forcefully this time, "I believe you alright? I believe you."

I looked at him as if her were the mad one, not me.

"Why?" was all I could ask.  
"I can tell when people are lyin', and you weren't," he shrugged, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, "although you left a few gaps, but I'm guessing you don't wanna elaborate on what attacked you huh? Don't worry, I'm not gonna press the issue okay? Maybe we should head back, get your hand looked at."

I looked down, only then noticing the blood on my knuckles. I shook my head ruefully. It was then that the main door opened and an unfortunately familiar face greeted my eyes. I swear, if I didn't know better I'd think the guy was following me.

"Krauser," I couldn't help but say in disbelief, feeling like an idiot for saying it; he blinked at me, then at Kessinger, who was looking at him with barely hidden contempt.  
"Looks like I'm interrupting something," Krauser finally said, smirking sardonically.  
"Whatever," Kessinger said, letting go of me, "let's get back Leon."

I followed him blearily. He pushed past Krauser who had helpfully not moved from his position in the doorway, forcing Kessinger to shove him out of the way. I couldn't meet his eye as I moved past him, trying to ignore the obvious jagged red scar tissue tearing its way down over his left eye to his chin. Until I was forced to as he stuck his right arm out, palm smacking into the wood of the doorframe, blocking my way. Kessinger hadn't noticed, having headed back out into the bar to pay the tab. I looked up at him, startled, wondering if I was going to be coordinated enough for a fight if it was needed. I felt like this had been coming for a while now, this confrontation, yet when I looked into his eyes I wasn't sure exactly what I saw.

"Something tells me you're avoiding me," he said calmly; I could smell the drink on his breath, funny I hadn't noticed him earlier if he'd been here in the same bar, I thought.  
"I wouldn't say that," I said back, trying for self possession but ending up sounding defensive.  
"I would," he said, stopping at that, not elaborating at all, just staring down at me, eyes unreadable.

I glared back, shoving his arm out of the way, hating the way he didn't stop me, didn't react. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? All the tension that had built up over the last week, all for that? I looked at him over my shoulder as I walked down the corridor back towards the bar. He was simply watching me, his face impassive, making me shiver for a reason I couldn't define. I frowned and looked away, focusing on simply opening the door and not making a fool of myself by tripping over my own feet.

"You okay?" Kessinger asked, walking up to me to give me my jacket.  
"Fine," I said tightly.  
"Did he try anything?" he asked angrily.  
"It's fine," I shook my head, "let's just get out of here."

Somehow, I thought as we walked back through the cold night air, silent though not awkward, I realised that I'd been hoping for something more climactic. That's why I was feeling just that little bit more empty as we walked back through the darkness towards the bright lights of the facility. Avoiding him? Was he kidding me? Of course I was! I hadn't known what to say; that I was sorry? I'd done that and it made me feel like a fool. I thought there must be some sort of way to make him see that I meant it but...I had no idea what that was. It made me feel naive that I couldn't even tell if he was still angry with me. Hell, if he'd said that he thought I was avoiding him, did that mean he had been following me around, trying to talk to me? Fuck, who knows, I thought, pulling my coat tight around myself and concentrating on simply walking in a straight line. Hopefully the drink would be enough to knock me out and there would be no damn nightmares tonight.

**AN:** Yikes, on a bit of a creative roll at the moment (it's kind of like a jam roll, only less sticky). Well, not sure if this chapter works, I did have a different ending lined up but I changed my mind at the last minute and I'm not sure if this one works at all. It kind of just peters out...oh well. Let me know what you think!

Maiko


	6. Size Him Up

**Chapter 5**

**Size Him Up**

Depending on our schedule, Kessinger and Huntington usually joined me for lunch in the mess hall. If not them, then one of my other roommates or classmates was usually available, I'd bump into someone in the queue, outside. Not today though, for some reason I ended up alone at the table, picking over my meal. I wasn't hungry at all and it was rotten luck that I ended up by myself when I was feeling the way I was: confused, conflicted, fed up of being both. Feeling sorry for myself was getting old quick, and I wanted nothing more than to feel more self assured and confident, like I used to.

"I take it this seat isn't taken?" a familiar voice said from above.

I didn't look up, instead taking a mouthful of food, chewing slowly. This was becoming a bad joke; I felt my hackles rise for no reason.

"Does it look taken?" I said, taking another forkful of food.

There was a short silence, before the screech of a chair being pulled out broke into it. I felt my shoulders tensing as he sat down directly across from me, his face just as stoic as it had been the night before.

"You're not the friendly type," Krauser said, picking up his fork and, spitefully I thought, not looking at me either, "are you Kennedy?"  
"I wouldn't say that," I said back, knowing that he would remember.

He looked up at that. His blue eyes were cold, unreadable; his poker face was impenetrable. I sighed forcefully through my nose, throwing my fork onto my plate and sitting back, watching him through narrowed eyes.

"I would," he replied, showing me he'd remembered alright.  
"Is there a reason you've been following me around?" I asked, feeling a twinge of guilt at the thought that he had every right to keep tabs on me, considering what I'd done.  
"Full of yourself too, aren't you?" he added, as if he wasn't even listening to me at all.  
"What is this?" I said, glaring, "An evaluation or a running commentary on my personality defects?"  
"Nothing wrong with stating fact," Krauser shrugged, smirking a little.  
"Got a point?" I said back, surprised at the venom in my voice.

He chewed thoughtfully, looking up towards the ceiling. I took the opportunity to look again to the scar, jagged and pink. It slit across his cheek, up over his eye. I tried to remember what I'd thought I was doing when I'd done it, but that didn't help. Unfortunately I was so busy staring that I hadn't noticed he was watching me once more. I started, looking away, caught red handed.

"You also like to beat yourself up about things that people have already said to forget," he said, not even asking for confirmation this time, just stating a simple fact.  
"That's what this is about?" I asked with a frown.  
"What the hell else would we have to talk about?" he shrugged.

Somehow I couldn't tell if it was an insult or a question. Was I not worth tracking down unless it was about our fight, or was he asking me to confirm that there was a better reason?

_Fuck this_, I thought angrily, looking once more into those cold eyes, _I've got enough problems of my own._

"I'm not here for your reassurance," I said harshly, noting the frown that appeared on his forehead, "so how about we stop playing games. You pushed me, I apologised, why don't we just leave it at that?"  
"Good question," Krauser said, looking back to his food.

I stood up so quickly that I knocked over my chair, earning me a few startled and interested glances from the people around us. I ignored them, and Krauser's lack of acknowledgement of my reaction; he just continued to eat, finally looking up at me with a look that cut right through, straight inside of me. I left, leaving the chair and my dinner and that awkward situation behind for someone else to clean up. My hands were balled into fists and it took me a long time to calm down. I went to the training gym and burned off my excess anger on the punching bag. Somehow kicking the shit out of it didn't give me as much satisfaction as I would have thought.

'_Good question'_. What the flying fuck did he think he was playing at? I punched again, hard, sending the abused bag spiralling, baring my teeth in agitation, putting my hands on my hips as I leaned forwards to get my breath back. A long breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. I closed my eyes and then opened them. I'd made a mistake, sure, I hadn't meant to hurt him but he'd fucking started it. If he thought he could retaliate by psyching me out then he had another thing coming. I went for a run but it was too cold to enjoy it. The fading sunlight sent me back inside, unsatisfied and tired.

I heard Kessinger before I saw him, as I headed back to my room from the showers. I perked up at that, the thought of a good distraction was something I would welcome right now. Then I heard the second voice and cursed my luck.

"Looks to me like you're the one following him around, Krauser," Kessinger's voice was hard and angry.  
"Looks to me like you're sticking your nose into business that isn't your own," Krauser's unemotional voice replied.

I rounded the corner just in time to see Kessinger throw the first punch.

"Shit!" I let out in exclamation, rushing forwards even as Krauser dodged the punch and retaliated, "Hey!"

I may not have been as big as them, but if there was one thing I knew how to do, it was use another person's momentum to my advantage. I pulled Kessinger away from Krauser, just saving him from a good hard crack in the jaw, and turned to push Krauser back against the opposite side of the corridor. Once more he looked surprised, probably at how strong I was for my size. Well screw him, I thought bitterly, still angry about earlier. At least it hadn't gotten out of hand, was what I was glad for. It was just a pity that the Sergeant had just come out of the door at the other end of the hall, in time to see Kessinger take advantage of the fact that I'd 'subdued' Krauser, pushing me out of the way and punching him full in the face, right across the stitches on his left cheek. I stumbled to the floor, wincing at Krauser's growl of pain.

"Hey! Break it up!" the Sergeant's voice cut through the tension like a machete, turning Kessinger's angry scowl into a look of worry and consternation.

I scrambled to my feet and saluted, as the other two did. I couldn't help but look to Krauser even as the Sergeant's foreboding form stormed down the hallway towards us. Three of his stitches had split and blood was leaking down his face. I swallowed.

"What the hell is going on here!?" the Sergeant bellowed, beckoning us to stand at ease.  
"Just a little difference of opinion, sir," Kessinger tried to sound confident but it didn't work out too well.  
"Difference of opinion my ass, recruit," the Sergeant said harshly, "all three of you, in my office in fifteen. Krauser get that face looked at first, Kennedy you go with him. If you're one second late don't think I won't send security out to haul your asses in, understand?"  
"Sir," I said; I wasn't going to argue, no matter how much I didn't want to go, I was in enough trouble already.

Kessinger looked at me with genuine remorse, but I couldn't help but shake him off. I was too angry at everything right now. Here I thought I was getting away from the bad stuff for at least one night and I walk round a corner and end up straight back in it again. I must have the worst fucking luck of anyone in the world right about now.

The doctor wasn't happy to see us. He automatically assumed that I'd been the cause of the injury and chewed me out for a whole minute before Krauser, thankfully, corrected him. Didn't make the Doc look at me any kinder, he obviously assumed that even if I wasn't the direct cause that I was involved somehow. He left to get and anaesthetic press from the store room, leaving us alone together. Awkward.

"Look," I sighed out, not being able to take the silence any longer, "I'm sorry about that."  
"It's not you I'm looking for the apology from this time Kennedy," Krauser shrugged, pressing gingerly at his face to assess the damage.  
"Well if you're hoping from one from Kessinger I wouldn't hold my breath," I said back before I realised that I was being civil and stopped talking.

I thought I was supposed to be angry at this guy. Right?

* * *

The end of the week came around quicker than I'd noticed and within no time I was helping grinning Claire off of the train. She jump hugged me and knocked the air out of my lungs, giving Chris something to laugh at while he walked over with their bags.

"Sometimes forget how strong she is myself," Chris teased, ruffling Claire's hair to which she gave an indignant squawk .  
"Don't do that!" she reprimanded, smoothing her hair back while glaring at her brother, "I'm just happy to see him that's all!"  
"How you doing, man?" Chris asked with a small smile.  
"As good as can be expected," I snorted out a laugh at the thought, "you guys hungry?"  
"Starving," Claire exclaimed overdramatically.

We caught a cab to their hotel, dumped their bags and then headed right out to a local restaurant Whetford had recommended. We bumped into Kessinger on the way there (it was only a few streets from the hotel so we decided to walk) and I introduced them hesitantly. There was something in the back of my mind that didn't want Claire or Chris near the facility, no matter how much I trusted Kessinger. He held me back after the others continued walking towards the restaurant.

"Leon," he said, taking hold of my arm, "look, about earlier, I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean to get you involved."  
"Then maybe you shouldn't have started it in the first place," I sighed, "what the hell were you thinking?"  
"Guess I wasn't," he said with less penitence than he had before, letting go of my arm and stuffing his hands in his pockets, "see you back at base."  
"Sure," I nodded, turning to hurry after Claire and Chris.

I was finding out quickly that Whetford was a font of useful local knowledge, and the restaurant was great. Claire had ice cream while Chris and I declined dessert. She filled the silence we created with enthusiastic small talk, which made me smile involuntarily. I think I was happiest right here, with Claire's voice creating a comforting background, Chris across from me shaking his head and rolling his eyes as she laughed at her own jokes.

"So that Kessinger guy, you work with him?" Claire questioned me directly, forcing me to pay attention.  
"Uh, yeah, I do," I said, sitting up a bit and blinking, trying to look like I _had_ been paying attention the whole time.  
"So is he gay?" she asked as she put a full spoon of ice cream in her mouth and eyed me innocently.

Unfortunately for Chris he'd just taken a big gulp of coke, which he choked on and it ended up coming out his nose. Claire was in hysterics, holding her sides with pain as she laughed, while Chris threatened to kill her while blowing his nose, glaring back. I found it hard not to laugh too, as I mopped up the mess and handed Chris another tissue.

"Christ Claire, are you trying to kill me?" he accused.  
"It was just a question," she shrugged with a smirk.  
"Yeah well could you maybe wait until I've swallowed next time?" he said sternly.  
"You know, that sounded kind of bad considering what I was asking..." Claire started with an evil grin.  
"Ah shut up, will you?" Chris thwacked her playfully on the head, "Where the hell did that question come from anyway?"  
"I was only asking!" Claire raised her hands in placation, looking to me, "But is he?"  
"I don't think so," I laughed as Chris put his head in his hands and mumbled something about 'little sisters'.  
"Hmm," Claire mused as she scraped the last of the ice cream from her bowl, looking towards the ceiling, "I must be losing my touch, and I'm usually so good at reading people."  
"Is this some latent ability that you've never told me about?" Chris joked back, prodding her in the shoulder, "The ability to tell someone's sexual orientation at a hundred paces?"  
"It's a girl thing," she said, sticking out her tongue at him, "you wouldn't understand."  
"Ri-ight," Chris said, looking at me significantly.

I laughed. They could be so childish sometimes, but it was nice, it was reassuring. Reminded me that there was still good in the world, something left to protect that wasn't just the barely contained cynicism and primal hatred I usually came across these days. We walked back to the hotel under the streetlamps, shivering in the cold. We said goodnight, Chris gave me a pat on the arm, and Claire took the opportunity to hug me again.

"G'night Leon," she said, squeezing the life out of me while she did.  
"We'll see you tomorrow some time?" Chris asked.  
"Yeah, good night," I waved to them both and then headed back to the facility.

The cold seeped in through my jacket, under my clothes, against my skin. I shivered and couldn't help but keep checking over my shoulder as I walked. There it was again, that _itching_ feeling. I turned sharply, eyeing the empty street suspiciously, but there was no one there. I licked my lips, hating that the cold dried them instantly, chapping them. My breath came out in milky clouds as I took a few steps backwards before turning and continuing on my way. I sped up my pace, hating the echoing sound of my own footsteps on the pavement.

* * *

The next day saw me on my own again for lunch. Kessinger was oddly absent and, when I'd asked a few of the other recruits, no one knew where he was. I wondered if he was ignoring me because of yesterday considering I had been a bit short with him. I sighed, hating that I had to deal with the internal politics of this place on top of everything else. The Sergeant was going to let me know about Melissa today, when she was going to come and see me in the coming week, so I was already a little on edge.

That's why it didn't help that Krauser took it upon himself to sit down across from me, this time without asking permission, and begin eating his lunch as if it were the most normal thing to do in the world. I watched him for a minute, during which he didn't look up at me once, noting the fresh stitches and the discolouration of a bruise forming on his cheek. Damn Kessinger for making me feel sorry for this guy all over again.

"How's your face?" I asked before I thought about why I was even asking in the first place.  
"Better," he said with a shrug, looking me straight in the eye disconcertingly, "how's your twitchy need to decapitate people?"  
"...Better," I said with a smirk, "would you like me to show you sometime?"  
"No, I think I'll pass on that," Krauser said with a look of fake contemplation, picking up the salt, "how about I spot you instead?"  
"Sounds a little more civil than I'm used to," I said, sitting back in my chair, eyeing him suspiciously.  
"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "maybe it'll be good for you."

I could have taken it either way, insult, joke, compliment...I decided on joke, maybe just because I wasn't in the mood for being on my own right now, or for getting into a fight. So I nodded, continuing with my lunch, trying to look casual.

"Why not," I complied.

**AN:** Is it bad that I wrote the outline for this chapter in my English Literature lecture today instead of taking notes? Oh well, never mind! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I really appreciate the feedback.

To Victory Is For The Weak: Yes, I realised that after I added my OC Kessginer, there are far, far too many K names...oops. I'm glad you like it despite that!

To Shadowave: Thanks for the review, it's always encouraging to know that your characters work! Poor Leon, I won't make him brood too much, I swear!


	7. Talk to Him

**Chapter 6**

**Talk to Him**

The transition was slow but easy to see, if you were looking for it. We started out training together, civilly enough, though the tension left over from our week of stalking and avoiding each other like hunter and prey sometimes made us a little overzealous. The assessors were baffled. The first time Krauser and I had decided to spar an assessor rushed over to break us up, thinking we were starting a fight.

"Ah come on Joe," Krauser had rolled his eyes at the assessor (he seemed to know all of them on a first name basis) and smirked, "you know how I work. If I'd wanted him dead I'd have done it weeks ago."

I couldn't help but shake my head as Krauser deflated the tension in the situation like he'd done it hundreds of times before, which he probably had. From then on the assessors and, the mainstay of the recruits, left us alone. My roommates still talked to me and, sure, we still hung out now and then but I found that, as the weeks passed, I ended up spending most of my time with Krauser and his veteran buddies.

"What are you doing later?" he'd asked me one day, out of the blue, as we jogged around the field.  
"Uh," I said between breaths, "nothing."  
"Nothing?" he said, sounding scornful, "It's your day off tomorrow and you aren't doing anything tonight?"  
"What are you doing that's so much more interesting than me?" I replied, tone tinted with anger.  
"Going to Lucy's," it seemed everyone went to Lucy's, the pub where my roommates and I had gone that first night off.  
"So you're going to get shitfaced," I reiterated, "great."  
"Wanna come?" he asked, grinning.  
"Hell yeah," I smirked back, taking the opportunity to overtake him and beat him to the ten lap mark.

I saw Melissa once a week. The first session had been the hardest, maybe because her disappointment was obvious, no matter how hard she tried to cover it. In a way I was surprised that she'd taken my breakdown so badly. I mean, what the hell did she expect? That I was going to walk back into this sort of life with no consequences? Another thing I'd noticed since hanging around Krauser, my self pity had taken a swift backdoor exit and never showed its face again.

"You seem happier at least," Melissa had commented at the end of our last session.  
"Yeah?" I asked, feeling a little awkward when she didn't say anything else, prompting me to elaborate on why, "Well, I guess so. I mean, things are getting better, I've been given a new chance and so far things have only gone marginally wrong."  
"You could say that," she said wryly, "so, you're making friends and playing nice?"  
"Making friends, sure," I smirked, "playing nice?"  
"Leon..." she said warningly.  
"I'm kidding," I said with a short laugh, "don't be so paranoid."  
"I heard from your Sergeant that you've been spending a lot of time with a..." she consulted the file she had on the table in front of her, "Jack Krauser?"  
"I wouldn't say 'a lot'..." I trailed off, realising then that it was probably a more accurate estimation than I had realised.  
"Isn't he the man that you maimed?" she said, sounding concerned.  
"Gee Doc, thanks for making me feel so much more secure and giving me piece of mind," I said sarcastically, "do you really think that I'd spend time with the guy if we weren't getting along?"  
"I didn't say that," Melissa said, sounding reproachful, before she calmed her tone and continued, "it's just...I want you to be careful. Revenge had a powerful effect on the human psyche."  
"Thanks," I said sarcastically, "I'll keep that in mind. We done?"

Melissa wasn't the only one who didn't take kindly to the idea that Krauser and I had formed a tentative friendship. Kessinger was still civil, sure, but he didn't talk to me as much as he used to, didn't offer to hang out so often, if at all, although if I did have nightmare he was, surprisingly, still there to reassure me that everything was alright. Even though we'd drifted apart I couldn't help but be grateful to him for that. I think, as far as I could tell, he resented that I'd become friendly with the guy who was responsible for the nightmares coming back in the first place. Yet the nightmares themselves were few and far between now and I no longer woke up to the sound of my own screams.

* * *

"So, she your girlfriend?"

Why did everyone always assume that? We were out for drinks again (it had become a regular thing kind of quickly) and it was my round. Krauser was up to help me back to the table with the drinks. The picture of me, Claire and Chris fell out of my wallet while I was paying.

"No," I said with a sigh, "she's just a friend."  
"Oh," he said, giving me the photo back with a smirk, "I get it. He's her boyfriend then."  
"I'm glad you never became a detective," I said back with a look of pity, "he's her brother."  
"Ah well, can't win 'em all," he said with a shrug, picking up one of the trays overloaded with drink and following me back to the table as I balanced my own tray.

Nearly everyone was out tonight, and Lucy's was pretty packed. Even my roommates had joined us, which was unusual, and Kessinger had finally given in to their pestering and come too. He sat uncomfortably beside me, with Krauser on my other side. Everyone else was either high level or a working agent, Krauser's crowd; Chester, Lucas, Marlow, Spitteri, Hoffman. Nice guys, a bit rowdy, but then who wasn't when in a group full of other guys, all vying for the few women in the bar, glad to have a night off, getting drunk.

"Took you long enough," Chester said with a mock glare, quickly slipping into a grin "what's the matter Kennedy? They ID you?"  
"Screw you," I said back with a smirk, handing him his drink.  
"Nah, not to check your age," Hoffman chimed in, watching me over the top of his glass as he drank, "just to make sure you were really a guy."  
"What, you don't think I am?" I said, hiding my smirk behind my own drink, "you want to check?"  
"And you were worried you wouldn't get lucky tonight Lance," Krauser laughed, while his teammate shook off his patronising glance and glared at him.

Was it strange that this made me feel better? I felt like I was eighteen again, before everything had gone to hell. The guys continued to talk, laughing, even my fellow rookies managed to get enough drink down them to join in. Kessinger went home early, earning a few new nicknames that I had to persuade the guys not to use within hearing distance of him. I didn't want another fight on my hands if I could help it. Krauser nudged me and I turned to him.

"Well, looks like you've fooled them into thinking you're normal," he said, taking a drink.  
"You'd know all about that, though, right?" I said with a smirk.

He laughed back, slapping me on the shoulder. Asshole nearly spilled my drink. Shame I spoiled the effect of my glare by laughing too.

* * *

"Well," Melissa said, "fourth session and you're already impressing me again."  
"Makes a change from disappointment," I shrugged, watching her cock an eyebrow at my confident manner.  
"Someone's perky today," she said with a smirk, "get laid last night?"

Damn this woman for being the only person able to make me blush. I rolled my eyes at her laugh and leaned forwards, elbows on my knees.

"Not that it'd be any of your business anyway," I answered tersely, "but no. Why, you offering?"  
"You wish Kennedy," she said, forcing herself back into a professional manner, "but seriously Leon, if you're being truthful with me, then I'm about ready to sign you off again."  
"About time," I said.  
"I did say 'about ready'' Kennedy," she said a little disapprovingly, crossing her legs, "don't jump the gun."

Let's just say that, despite Melissa's misgivings, the Sergeant was just as happy as I was to hear the words 'about ready'. Which, in a way, made me a little wary and suspicious of him. I mean, he's the one who wanted me to see the shrink in the first place. I know that admittedly it's procedure and he'd been more than lenient with me already, but there was something off about the situation that had me reading things into it that, afterwards, made me feel like a paranoid idiot.

"That's great Kennedy," he said with a smile, "I'm impressed kid, knew you would do it of course. You kept your promise and I knew you would."  
"Thank you, sir," I said, hands clasped behind my back.  
"Sit down," he said, pulling open a drawer in his desk, rummaging through it until he found a brown file folder, tossing it across the table at me, "I've got something you might be pleased to see."

I looked at it in confusion as I picked it up. When I opened it, despite all of the words on the page, two stood out more than the rest. The fact that I picked up on them so quickly attested to the fact that I'd become finely tuned to watching out for any traces of him, kind of creepy on my part really. Jack Krauser.

"It's a training mission, Kennedy," the Sergeant said soberly, "the scuttlebutt is that you and Krauser have made amends, that right?"  
"Yes, sir," I said, not wanting to elaborate at all, watching him with scrutiny.  
"That'll be why he recommended that you join this mission," he said with a nod, "let me tell you that it surprised me when I read his recommendation. You were the last person I guessed he'd choose."  
"I'm sorry sir," I said, looking back to the mission outline in my hands, "I don't understand."  
"You didn't wonder at all why Jack Krauser has been wandering around all this time with the rookies?" the Sergeant looked incredulous, making me feel a little idiotic, "This year he was asked to pick the green that would go with the vets on the training mission, happens every year Kennedy. This year you're the lucky one."  
"But I haven't even had my final exam yet?" I said, suspicious of the fact that I'd heard nothing of this before now.  
"That's right," he nodded, "this will be your final exam."  
"A mission?" I asked, looking up at him, raising the folder in my hands, "This mission?"  
"That's right," he said, "you've proven yourself Kennedy; outstanding grades so far, experience in the field, capacity to take yourself further, you're our most promising recruit in years. This is your chance to make your mark."

That was one way of putting it.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

He stopped to look up at me, bent over the pool table, with raised eyebrows. I had the manila folder in my right hand, the other poised on my hip.

"It's a folder Kennedy," he said, deadpan, "wouldn't have thought you'd needed to still ask stuff like that."  
"Funny," I said, lowering my arm and throwing the folder onto the pool table, "answer my question."

The other guy he was playing with, Chester, one of his usual hangs, whistled and raised his eyebrows, making a quick excuse and leaving the room, game half done. He gave me a nod on the way out and a look that said I shouldn't make too much noise. Krauser sighed, realising I wasn't going to leave, and picked up the folder. He snorted as soon as it fell open in his hands, looking up at me.

"You're getting on my case about this?" he said disbelievingly, "And here I thought you were gonna thank me."  
"For what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, "Casing me out? When exactly did you start prowling for a recruit?"  
"Prowling?" he said with a significant look, "When do you think?"  
"I'm guessing since I first saw you here," I said, walking up to the pool table to lean on it, arms crossed.  
"I knew I picked you for a reason Kennedy," he smirked, putting the folder down on the edge of the table, "you're quick on the uptake."  
"Nice, but flattery will get you nowhere," I said, deadpan, "when exactly did you decide on me?"  
"After I saw you that first time," he said, shrugging.  
"What took you so long to chose then?" I said, frowning.

Damn him for making me change from angry to insulted so quickly, what was I looking for, his approval?

"You're mental instability," he said frankly, "which I'm glad you got a handle on. Wouldn't have wanted to lose someone of your calibre."  
"Oh, I'm so glad you approve," I spat.  
"Want to tell me why you're so angry about this?" he said, getting angry himself.  
"Want to pretend you care a little longer? I might just buy it," I retorted, pushing off of the table and leaving before he could say another word.

I shouldn't have been surprised that he followed me. I mean, I'd have been pissed if someone had done that to me. Not that I cared at that point, this was all in retrospect you understand. I managed to make it to the outside lockers before he caught up, my anger fuelling my pace. I wanted to run off the excess energy I'd built up. Not in the gym though, I didn't want to be around anyone right now, too angry, too volatile, I needed to be on my own. Why was it whenever I felt like that Krauser decided to bug me?

"You got a real attitude problem, you know that?" he said, surprising me as I opened my locker.

The lockers were empty, cold. No one was outside at this time in the evening, everyone was inside the warm, well lit gym. All the sensible people.

"Did you come all the way down here to tell me that?" I asked abruptly, turning my back on him to focus on my locker.  
"The hell I did," he snapped back, "I want an answer."  
"And here I thought you were good at reading people," I said back, feeling light headed and reckless.

Was I really going to piss him off any more, get my ass pulled from the mission? What was wrong with me?

"Average People yeah," he said, and I spun round to find him not two feet from me; damn guy moved like a cat, "but I'm finding out you're anything but that."  
"So you're not as dense as you look," I said back sarcastically.  
"Fuck you Kennedy," he growled, hands slamming into the lockers on either side of my head, "what's your problem? I do you a favour and you throw it back in my face?"  
"Favour? Is that what you're calling it? Please," I said, standing up to his threat by getting in his face, "following me around, pretending to be my friend so you could evaluate me behind my back to your commanding officer, and you expect me to be _grateful_?"

He stared me right in the eyes, our breath mingling together we were that close. His brow was heavy with anger, accentuating his ice cold eyes. I didn't back down, waiting for him to make the next move.

"There's something else I've wanted to do since I saw you that first time Kennedy," he said in a deep, dangerous voice that sent shivers up my spine, "think you're superior intellect can figure that out too?"

He'd taken a fistful of my t-shirt and slammed me back into the lockers before I could even think of an answer. The power of the blow hit me like a freight train, knocking the air out of me; I had forgotten just how strong he was and, only now, began to feel a tinge of fear.

"Let me guess," I choked out, my hands coming up to grab hold of his arm, trying to dislodge it without success, "beat the crap out of me?"

He just smirked at me, something that didn't reach his eyes.

"Wrong," he said, letting go so abruptly that I stumbled forwards a little, forced to reach out and steady myself on his chest, "but I'll let you figure that out on your own, shall I? I take it you're still coming on the mission?"  
"And you say that _I'm_ full of myself," I muttered out, pushing off of him and leaning back against the lockers, watching him guardedly.  
"Thought you would," he said, before turning and leaving me standing there, feeling drained and confused.

Why did I always end up in these insane situations?

**AN**: Oh so close! Sorry for the anti-climax there. Back to Wesker next chapter (cause you can never have enough Wesker). Thanks again for the reviews guys! It's nice to know you're appreciated


	8. Create Your Strategy

**Chapter 7**

**Create Your Strategy**

Sergeant Howes, Wesker concluded as he hung up the phone, was so a-typical of a military man used to getting his way that he actually couldn't stand talking to the man for more than ten minutes at a time. Which is why he'd hung up on him. Of course that meant he'd have to deal with his high handed manner next time they spoke, his stupid, pointless ranting, but if it got him off the phone at this precise moment, Wesker didn't much care. He had bigger things to think about.

It had been too soon. Why had he come too soon? He wound the two week old recording back, watching Kennedy and the girl, waiting for _him_ to walk onto the screen. Ah, there he was. Too soon, too soon.

"Christopher," he let the name idle on his tongue, "you never did show up when it suited me, did you?"

It had been so easy to tap into the rail networks security camera system, and he'd been running the video feed in a loop for a while now, just observing. Watch it any longer and he'd start to neglect his work. Didn't make him any less annoyed about missing a perfect opportunity. He'd heard about the Redfield's visit and instantly thought of at least five ingenious plans to capture dear Christopher without making too much of a fuss. Of course, his sister would have noticed he was gone (not that he'd have minded silencing her, not at all) but Kennedy couldn't be compromised. Kennedy was essential to his plans, and the plan needed to take precedence over all else. No matter how appealing that 'else' was.

Phase one was about to be initiated. Wesker looked over the description of the mission stats, flipping through the pages to familiarise himself with the layout, the checkpoints, double checking everything again. You could never be too careful, Wesker should know. The knock on the door pulled at his attention, making him frown at the intrusion on his thoughts. He shut down the recording playing on his computer quickly and looked back to the folder in his hands.

"Enter," he said without looking up.  
"Wow, you're even nicer than last week," she said, crossing her arms, "is it a special occasion?"

Melissa Hyden, Wesker had decided as soon as he'd hired her, needed to stop trying so hard. She was one of those perfect girls: perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect teeth, perfect opening lines. Wesker also wasn't unaware of the way she trailed her eyes up and down his body when she thought he wasn't looking either, as if she thought she had any sort of chance of seducing him. An overall sickening package. Wesker would enjoy disposing of her once she'd outlived her usefulness. She was his link to Kennedy, his source on his mental state, nothing more. She'd been easy to bribe, but Wesker owed her nothing.

"Your report?" he asked succinctly.  
"Huh," she huffed, taking the chair on the other side of his desk and sitting in it ungracefully, "I take it back. You're just your usual pleasant self."

Wesker didn't grace her with a reply. Instead he put down his folder, sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, watching her. She shifted uncomfortably, but held her own in the staring competition that ensued. It was ineluctable that she gave out first however; if there was one thing Wesker had learned from his laboratory work and being the captain of STARS, it was that patience was imperative.

"He's basically stable," she said, pushing the report towards Wesker over his immaculately tidy desk, "he'll still be a little fragile, but then the simulation wouldn't be realistic if he wasn't."  
"Will he be able to fight to the best of his abilities?" Wesker asked immediately.  
"Well, I think so, but the only problem I have is this guy," she said, stabbing her finger at a profile photograph on the report, "Jack Krauser. He's the guy Kennedy got into a fight with a couple of weeks back. They're all buddy, buddy now. I thought that their 'friendship' wouldn't last and that there would be nothing to compromise the mission, but, well..."  
"Humans," Wesker said with a sigh, "they never do anything according to plan."

Melissa eyed him warily as Wesker leaned over the desk to look at the report, his sunglasses slipping forwards on his nose. He smirked, looking up at her through the gap created, his eyes flashing. She sat back abruptly, crossing her arms. He pushed his glasses back up, but kept the self satisfied look. So easy to manipulate, the lot of them. Howes, Hydan, Kennedy...

_But not you, Christopher, not you. You never do what you're told, do you? What's expected of you?_

Hydan cleared her throat, bringing Wesker back to the present. He flicked the report closed and shrugged lightly.

"He shouldn't be a problem. We are, after all, assessing the ability of the team as a whole. Kennedy is an added bonus, in a way," Wesker said, leaning back in his chair, lying through his teeth.

In all honesty he just didn't want to have to explain himself to this woman. In reality Kennedy's data would be invaluable to him, and this Krauser may be a hindrance in assessing Kennedy's abilities if they were as close as Hydan said. However, he could take care of that. Nothing she needed to know about.

"Yeah, well, just remember our part of the deal," Hydan said bluntly, standing up suddenly and walking towards the door, "your plan wouldn't be anything without my information."  
"Of course, Ms. Hydan," Wesker said with faux sincerity, which was so flawless that she hesitated, not knowing what to think, "your invaluableness is your saving grace."

He could tell, in the end, that she didn't believe him, but then he didn't need her to. Anything she wanted to try, anything to blackmail him, sabotage him, he'd already thought up every way she could and set up counter measures. She left with a scowl. Why did people always think they could play him? This experiment, it would seal everything, it would make everything possible for him. He would have the world in his hands, to nurture or to crush as he saw fit.

He would have Christopher Redfield at his mercy, for as long as he willed it. The thought sent shivers down his spine. He recalled the last time he had touched him, held him by the throat and lifted him into the air, tossing him aside like a cat playing with a very stubborn mouse. Nothing else evoked these reactions in him, the scientific side of him mused, trying to analyse the situation as the baser side of him just closed its eyes and let the scenarios play out behind them. This lust, this obsession, it was all Redfield's, this part of him that had formed along with his new body ever since he'd pressed the injection unit to his arm and let the virus enter his system.

_Mine_, he thought viscerally,_ all mine_.

* * *

**AN:** Uh-oh, Wesker's gone ga-ga! Oh wait, he was already ga-ga, never mind. Eek, these chapters won't stop! Help! Can't...stop...writing! Ah, screw my psychology lab report anyway...


	9. And Execute the Plan

AN: Okay, so we're moving into **Resident Evil: Darkside Chronicles** territory here. Unfortunately I haven't had a chance to play this game all the way through yet, so I'm going to have to do a little research and I will, of course, be changing a lot of stuff too. Just in case you wonder why it's all going wrong heh heh.

**Chapter 8**

**And Execute the Plan**

"Nervous?" Krauser asked, head down, eyes glued to the manual in his hands as I paced back and forth along the length of the room.  
"That's one stupid question," I said tightly, continuing my track.  
"No need to be," he flicked his eyes up and watched me for a moment, before sighing and putting the book down, "what's the matter?"  
"Nothing," I lied.  
"Yeah, right. You know you're one bullshit liar Kennedy," he said shaking his head.

I shot him a glare but didn't stop walking. We were leaving in an hour, on this mission, on this _exam_ mission, and he was telling me not to be nervous. Right.

"Yeah well, maybe I just never got the hang of it like you obviously did," I said back, stopping to check my watch.  
"Ah, so that's what this is about," he said, sighing, "still holding that grudge are we?"  
"I don't know what you mean," I said airily, sitting down to eliminate the temptation to pace.  
"I already told you that I can tell every time you lie, haven't I?" he asked, "Why you keep trying to is beyond me."

Yes I was still angry at him, confused by him, torn, conflicted, nervous. Wasn't a good time to interrogate me because I felt like I was about to snap in half I was so tense. I let him know so with a glare.

"Alright, fine," he sighed in irritation, "why don't we go over the details again. Might calm you down."

I opened my mouth to retort, realised how childish I was being and shut it. He seemed to appreciate that and I nodded my consent.

"Okay," he said, "so, even though this is a training mission for you and, yes, you are being evaluated, don't forget that we're going out into the field here. You can't screw up and everything'll be fixed by the Sergeant. You screw up here, you get people killed."  
"You vote of confidence is awe inspiring," I said, looking at him significantly, "you don't trust me? Then don't take me."

He snorted out a laugh.

"Hell, trying to be serious with you is like trying to be mean to a tiger cub," he said, noticing my frown, "it's so adorable that you can't keep it up, then you take your eyes off it for a second and it claws your face off."  
"...Adorable?" was all I could say, blinking at him.  
"It's a metaphor Kennedy," he said, picking the mission stats back up and coughing as he avoided my stare, "deal with it."

I tried to deal with it, found I wasn't sure what to do with it and ignored it instead. Krauser continued.

"We're headed to Amparo, a South American village deep in the Brazilian jungle , looking for Javier Hidalgo. He's a drug lord, major player in the Latin American drug syndicate, showed up unexpectedly about four years ago. Likes to live it up, doesn't care who knows it, extravagant, you know the kind. As far as we can tell he isn't related in any way with the Mexican Contras, who run business over the borders, but information on his business partners is limited at best. A month ago, he goes missing, not a trace. But we have intel that he was trying to contact the Umbrella Corporation."  
"And the date of his disappearance coincides with the reports of people in the area going insane," I said, knowing in my gut that as soon as the name Umbrella Corp. was mentioned, things could only be bad.  
"Right. Insane as in attacking others on sight, loss of moral inhibition, sense of self, everything. We had an inside source that managed to get us a limited report saying that he thought it might be some new drug that Hidalgo had put out on the market, but he didn't give any details other than he knew Hidalgo was headed to Amparo, and now we can't get in touch with him."

Silence. I looked at Krauser, watching as he flipped through the pages, not looking up.

"Do you think he's..?"  
"Dead?" he finished harshly, taking a breath and looking up, calming himself, "Probably."  
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling it was arbitrary but necessary none the less.  
"Yeah," Krauser said, chucking the report onto the table, looking grave, "me too. You're ready for this, right?"  
"As I'll ever be," I replied, glad we were moving away from awkward conversation topics.  
"Then let's get going," he said with a barely discernable smile, "the plane won't wait for us."

* * *

I managed to get in a quick call to Claire before we left, using the secure line on base. The fact that I couldn't give her any information only made her worry, and the fact that I'd be out of contact made her worry more.

"Sounds kind of risky for a training mission," she said seriously.  
"Yeah," I said, "it is, but that's what I'm good at right?"  
"Oh Leon," she sighed, "don't say that. It'll be fine right? Come on I was looking for reassurance, not for you to agree with me!"

That made me laugh, which in turn thankfully calmed Claire down. She said that Chris was at work but she'd let him know what was going on when he got back.

"Be careful," she said, sounding like she really, really meant it.  
"I will," I said, "I'll call you when I get back."

No need to mention Umbrella.

* * *

The plane turned out to be a Lear jet, and it took us down south in a matter of hours. We arrived early in the morning, having left very late at night, and set out immediately to try and find Krauser's contact. Krauser himself wasn't holding up any luck of finding him, but he wasn't not going to go to their meeting place, just in case. Long story short, he didn't turn up, which didn't put Krauser in the best mood.

The town where we landed was small, hot and dusty. The others had set out on touchdown, as was the plan, and were to go on ahead of us to do some recon while we gathered further intel, if possible. With the contact MIA however, the likelihood of that was pretty slim.

"So where do we meet our guide to Amparo?" I asked, pulling on my cap as we left the cafe where the contact was supposed to be.  
"Another village," Krauser said, "five miles south of here."  
"And the others? They got another guide?" I asked.  
"Yeah, from a separate village though, so as not to arouse suspicion," Krauser replied, pulling at the straps on his backpack, "well, no point in wasting time here."

We found the trail that headed into the dense jungle that surrounded the town, set our compasses just in case the trail took us anywhere interesting or decided to split into two (or three, or four) and set off. The insects were the worst, and the denser it got the worse the clouds of mosquito's and flies got. Also the snakes weren't too friendly either. All I'd heard was the thunk of steel hitting wood, spinning round to see Krauser behind me with a diamond back Bushmaster snake hanging limply from his Mark V blade. He looked at it dispassionately before taking a swig from his canteen, throwing the snake into the underbrush and tossing the canteen to me.

"Ought to be more careful," he said, putting his foot up onto a rock and surveying the road ahead, "this place is crawling."  
"Tell me about it," I muttered, taking a swig of warm water and grimacing; I capped it and chucked the canteen back to Krauser, "it shouldn't be much further to the town, a couple of miles or so by my estimation."  
"Good," Krauser said, turning to me and swatting at his arm with a stark slap, "fucking insects are getting on my nerves."  
"I wouldn't count on there being any less insects in the town," I said, pulling my cap back on and hating the stifling heat that it brought, "and I doubt they're gonna have air conditioning."

Krauser grinned at that one.

"What's the matter Kennedy?" he said smacking the front of my cap juvenilely so that it fell down over my face, "Can't take the heat?"  
"Oh shut up," I said, pulling my cap back up and walking on ahead.  
"Nice comeback," he said, smirking before falling into step behind me.

* * *

I had been right about the distance and we reached the town in about forty five minutes or so. It was nothing to speak of, just a collection of ramshackle huts, tight knit along the banks of the river, creating a winding maze of corrugated iron and rough plaster. There were some more substantial houses, but they were in bad repair. This wasn't the strange thing though.

"Where is everyone?" I asked quietly, feeling like raising my voice would just be a bad idea.  
"I don't know," Krauser shook his head, walking slowly through the town, looking from right to left in a vain attempt to catch some movement.

Yet there was nothing. Just the buzzing of flies and the muffled sound of a radio report about missing teenage girls. I felt jumpy already but didn't pull my gun. It would only scare anyone we saw and, right now, we needed to find at least one person to tell us what the hell was going on.

"Our guide was supposed to meet us here?" I asked as we walked towards a small well, around which there was a sort of small town square of sorts.  
"Yeah," he said looking at his watch, "right around now. What the hell is going on? It doesn't...smell right."  
"What do you mean?" I asked, instinctually keeping close to him in case of any sort of ambush or attack.  
"It's like a battlefield," he said as if he were talking to himself, "like death."  
"Death?" I breathed in, detecting heat and dust and a faint familiar tang.

Blood. Krauser and I drew our guns, senses on the alert.

"Hey!" Krauser's shout scared the crap out of me and I turned to see where he was looking.

A man had just stumbled out of an alleyway behind us, his head limp against his chest, feet shuffling forwards. Krauser instinctually walked towards him.

"He looks hurt," Krauser said to me, and I felt the hairs going up on the back of my neck, "Are you alright? What happened here?"  
"Wait, don't..!" I shouted as he reached out with his hand to steady the man.

I jumped without thinking, shoving Krauser out to the ground as the man lunged for his hand, teeth snapping on thin air. The guy turned his bloodshot eyes on me, hands reaching out, rotting breath pouring over my face, yellowing teeth rotting in his gaping mouth. I froze.

"Leon, look out!"

I blinked just in time to see him snarl, going for my throat. I pushed him away and brought up my gun, once, twice, three times in the chest and he went down in a fit of gurgling and groaning. I was panting, hands rigid on my gun, knuckles white, staring at him, just _staring_ at him. God, no, this isn't happening. Not again. Not ever again. I promised I'd get rid of this virus once and for all and again, here it was again...

"What the hell did you shoot him for?" Krauser's furious tone pulled me from my stupor, his hand on my shoulder spinning me around.  
"You don't understand," I said seriously, but I could hear the cold hardness to my tone, the business end of my personality taking over.  
"Like hell, you just shot a civilian!" he shouted, looking at me like I was crazy, "I know he attacked us but couldn't you just have incapacitated him? He might be on that drug that my contact told us about..!"  
"You don't understand!" I shouted back, hands shaking in frustration as I couldn't think, I couldn't _think_ how to explain, how any of this was real, how...

Then the dead guy did it for me. His morose groan stopped Krauser mid sentence and we both looked around as the man who had three deep bullet wounds in his chest and had been clearly not breathing for about a minute, suddenly stumbled to his feet and set his lifeless eyes on us, baring his teeth in a preternatural hiss.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me..." Krauser mumbled out, his hand still clasped around my shoulder, his eyes wide as he stared, dumbfounded, at the monstrosity before us that was once a man.

This time I didn't hesitate at all. I raised my gun, levelled it and shot him clean through the head, destroying his brain.

"Yeah, you won't be getting up from that one," I said darkly, "will you."

Krauser let go of my shoulder and took a step back from me. His eyes were alight with confusion. I tried to calm myself down, bring myself back from that darker side, but it just wasn't happening. I needed it, it's what got me through Racoon and, if the same thing was happening here, it would get me through this too. As well as Krauser.

"Yeah, I've seen that look before. When we had the knife fight," Krauser surprised me with his statement; I was expecting him to demand answers right away, I mean, who wouldn't? "That look in your eye...you've seen this before, haven't you?"  
"Yes," I said categorically, not beating around the bush; what would be the point? "I've seen it before. In Racoon city, but this it's...different somehow."  
"Fuck!" Krauser exclaimed, looking down at the ruined human form sprawled before us, "fuck this can't be happening. Is it dead?"  
"Should be," I said, checking my clip before looking to the surrounding area.  
"What the fuck is it?" he hissed, shoving it gingerly with his boot.  
"You said Umbrella were involved in this somehow right?" I said, looking back at him.  
"Right, but what's that got to do with..?" Krauser asked with a frown.

He was interrupted, and not in a good way. I spun on my heel at the keening sound and raised my gun as two more shuffled out from behind a broken fence, eyes trained on me as the closest one raised its hand. I shot them both in the head and looked to my right as I heard Krauser firing his gun. There were more of them, _a lot_ more.

"There're too many of them! Run!" I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the nearest alley which wasn't oozing zombies.

This couldn't be happening, I thought like a mantra, this couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening...

**AN:** Eww, zombie brains all over my new shirt. Nice. Poor Leon. Still haven't made up my mind whether to still have Krauser be a dick by the end of this story, but we'll see...anyway, please review and let me know what you think.


	10. Tell Him Everything

**Chapter 9**

**Tell Him Everything**

The village wasn't just overrun, it was crawling, and not just with zombies either. Fucking piranhas, mutated giant amphibians, everything was out for our blood. Krauser just swore, profusely, and shot at anything that moved and saying over and over how insane this all was. I knew he wanted answers, I could see it in the way he looked at me after I killed one of them like I knew what I was doing. It was only because I _did_ know what I was doing, and I wanted answers just as badly as him.

When we found our contact, he was barely alive, bleeding from a wound in his leg. I was amazed he'd managed to last this long at all. I covered the exits while Krauser asked him about the village.

"That girl..." he croaked feebly, "she brought demons to our village."

Dying words that made no sense. That was until we found the girl he was talking about, and the thing guarding her in an old church, surrounded by water. Javier must have released extra water from the dam upstream, flooding the village.

_Fucking bastard, killed all these people, I'll make him pay_, I thought, _I promise. _

The girl was there alright, but she didn't fit into the surrounding at all. She was dressed in virginal white, stained deeply with red blood around the hem, and she was singing softly in a cultured voice.

"Leon," Krauser said, flicking his head to the side as we entered the church, indicating the mutated head of the _thing_ sticking out of the water.  
"I see it," I said back, taking aim.

The girl looked up at me, I caught her eye, she stopped singing and collapsed to the floor. All hell broke loose.

"Shi-it!" Krauser said as the thing launched itself from the water and bared its massive jaws right at us, "What the fuck is it? Where do I shoot? Things fucking huge!"  
"Dammit!" my handgun was no use against its scaly hide.

What was it? I had no idea and, in the long run, I don't think I ever want to know. It was like a sea monster from ancient myth, all tentacles and fangs and stinking of dead fish. We lured it outside before it mauled us to death, but that only gave it more room to manoeuvre. We tried to shoot it but it was impossible, it leaped like a dolphin from the water, reappeared and vanished in the blink of an eye. I didn't even notice it was behind me until it was too late. The tentacle hit me like a truck, throwing me across the walkway and slamming me into the wall, winded and dazed and broken. I thought I heard Krauser shouting my name, but the ringing in my ears was deafening everything. I coughed roughly and stumbled wearily to my feet, only to come face to face with _it_. It was right there, jaws gaping wide. I raised my hand to shoot it but only then realised I had lost my gun. It was all around me, there was no way out. A spike of fear jolted through me as I looked up, watching it rear back for a final strike.

"Get out of the way!" Krauser yelled.

I did the only thing I could do, I ducked and covered my head as best I could, hoping to all hell that Krauser had a plan. Then the sound of cracking and breaking could be heard from above me and there was mortar and brick raining down around me. Something slammed into my right shoulder and I was sent sprawling to the ground, letting out a cry of pain. The thing roared above me, screaming, screaming, screaming...

And then nothing. Silence. I opened my eyes and tried to push up on my arms, but my right arm screamed in agony at the movement and I dropped back against the rough boardwalk.

"Fuck," I said weakly, even as Krauser ran up to me, worry in his eyes.  
"Are you alright?" he asked, "What's wrong?"  
"My arm," I said, blinking away the stars in front of my eyes, "I think it's broken."  
"Shit!" he knelt down and carefully helped me onto my knees and then up onto my feet, "Let's at least get inside. That thing might be gone now but who knows when it'll be back."

I nodded dazedly, my head swimming. I felt like I was going to pass out. The girl was still there, lying open and vulnerable on the broken wood. What was she doing here? I thought. Does she have anything to do with the other girls that had gone missing in the village, like that radio report had said? Krauser sat me down gently and propped me up against the wall.

"The girl..." I said faintly.  
"I'll get to her," Krauser said authoritatively, "you first. Here."

He un-holstered his knife and put it in my right hand, which lay limply against the ground, palm up.

"Can you close your hand around it?" I tried and managed to get a fair grip on it; it still hurt, only not as badly as before, "Good. What about this?"

He lifted up my hand and bent my arm at the elbow, moving just my forearm.

"That okay?" I nodded, "Then it isn't broken. Unfortunately I think I know what's wrong."  
"What..?" I didn't manage to finish my sentence as Krauser grabbed me roughly and snapped my dislocated shoulder back into its socket.

I screamed, falling forwards against him, fisting my left hand into his t-shirt, squeezing my eyes shut. My head fell against his shoulder and he let me stay there, shivering. Slowly I managed to release my death grip on his shirt and my left arm fell limply to the ground. I couldn't move, I think I'd gone into shock. I felt Krauser's hand resting tentatively on my back.

"Could of said," I mumbled out weakly against his neck.  
"Would have only made it worse, you know that," he said in the calmest, gentlest tone I'd ever heard him use; damn I must look like shit if he's being this nice to me, I thought, "it works better if you're relaxed."  
"Yeah," I conceded, "help me out here would you?" I asked as I tried to push myself up without jostling my arm.

He helped prop me back against the wall and then went to check on the girl. She was still unconscious so he picked her up and placed her on one of the long pews close to where I sat, lying on her back. He checked her eyes but didn't find anything abnormal.

"She okay?" I asked as he sat down in front of me and checked his ammo.  
"Seems so," he nodded, "just fainted."

He looked at me seriously. I looked back. The still sound surrounding us was equally as eerie as the moaning and groaning of zombies. In a situation like this it wasn't natural to hear silence.

"So," he said, breaking the tension, "looks like we're not going anywhere just yet."  
"I can walk..." I protested, frowning in indignation.  
"Never said you couldn't, but can you shoot?" he asked.  
"I can shoot right and left handed," I shot back.  
"Of course he can shoot with both hands," he muttered, as if to himself, rolling his eyes, "but even with that your aim will be off and who's going to carry her? You? If I carry her that leaves you to shoot and sorry if I don't want to put my life in the hands of the guy who won't be able to shoot for shit."

_What an asshole,_ was all I could think as I glared at him. Although he did have a point. I sighed roughly.

"Fine," I gave in, looking back to the girl.  
"I was going to suggest, considering we have a little time on our hands here, that you fill me in," Krauser said.  
"About what?" I asked stupidly.  
"You're kidding right?" he said frankly, making me blush a little, "I heard you talking to Kessinger in the bar that night Kennedy. I heard that vague allusion to what attacked you in Racoon. You said Umbrella was significant somehow right? And that you've come across this before? I want to know, everything."

I sighed, letting my head drop forwards. There was no way round this and, anyway, it wouldn't be fair to leave Krauser in the dark considering the situation. I nodded, trying to think where would be the best place to start.

"I think I'd better go back to the beginning," I said, wondering how long it would take for my shoulder to be useable again.

He didn't talk. He just listened and stared. Sometimes he stared at me, sometimes into the space between us, as if he was trying to imagine the scenes I was describing. I wasn't sure why he'd want to do that, surely hearing about them was bad enough. Still, by the time I reached the end, he looked much more confident than he had for the entire of our journey since we'd entered the village.

"Christ," was the first thing he said, first thing he'd said in about an hour, "that's just...it's just crazy. I don't..."

He stood up and paced over to the doorway of the church. Nothing had come down here since we fought with the water BOW. I guessed that even the zombies and amphibians knew that coming down here was a bad idea. Which was what confused me, I mean, the zombies I'd come across in Racoon didn't have any motive for self preservation, yet these one's seemed to. They were different somehow, almost as if they were being controlled by someone, but that was crazy in itself. The T-virus, the G-Virus, heck even the T-Veronica virus, none of them let you have that kind of control. This was something new, and that above all things scared me the most.

The girl took that moment to wake up. She sat bolt upright, her eyes wide, and screamed. Krauser jumped out of his skin and glared at her, which didn't help matters.

"Jesus girl! Keep it down!" he growled, walking quickly towards her.  
"Krauser, don't scare her!" I admonished, her eyes flicking to me, "Hey, don't worry, look at me. We're not going to hurt you."  
"We're the ones that saved you," Krauser elaborated, crossing his arms and looking her over.  
"Right," I nodded, "we're here looking for Javier Hidalgo, do you know him? We met a man who said you'd escaped from his mansion, is that right?"

She hesitated for a moment before nodding meekly. She seemed scared and yet somehow self assured at the same time. It was almost as if she were more scared of us than any threat the BOW's could pose to her.

"What's your name?" I asked; that got her attention and she stared at me avidly.  
"...Manuella," she said finally.  
"Nice to meet you Manuella," I smiled, making Krauser frown at me, "we were hoping you could show us the way to Javier's mansion. Could you do that for us?"

Again she hesitated, her eyes flicking to Krauser, but finally nodded and wrapped her hands around her slim waist.

"It's up river," she said softly, "there's a boat, behind the church, you can use that."  
"You're coming with us," Krauser said as if making it clear that there was no room for argument, "it's safer for you that way."  
"I..." she started to protest, but I cut her off.  
"It's important Manuella," I said sincerely, "we have to get to that mansion. If you help us, we'll protect you, alright?"

She nodded in defeat, her head drooping. Krauser asked her if she could walk and she stood up without showing any signs of fainting again. He helped me to my feet and, despite our respite, my shoulder was still off limits. I knew this was going to be a problem, but at least I still had my other hand. I went for my holster and blanched, finding nothing there. Then it came back to me in a flash, the BOW, I'd dropped my gun, where the hell was it!?

"Looking for this?" Krauser said as his hand came into view, holding my gun.  
"Thanks," I murmured, giving him a small smile, "must have dropped it when I hit the wall."  
"Keep a better hold on it next time," he said and his words made my head snap up in anger, which melted when I saw the concern in his eyes, "I might not always be there to get your back and, if that happens, I'd like to see you come out of this alive. Understand?"

I nodded dumbly and felt my stomach drop out at the thought of the reasons why he might not be there to 'get my back'. I looked at him sternly.

"No one's going to die here," I said, "we'll get out. I did it once, I can do it again. We're all getting out of here. You understand?"

He nodded slowly turning away to follow Manuella, who'd been standing awkwardly to the side, towards the boat. Not before I caught sight of his smile however.

AN: Rollin', rollin', rollin', rawhide! This story just won't die! Yeesh.


	11. Watch Over Him

**Chapter 10**

**Watch Over Him**

The sun was still high, giving the illusion of calm. Blue sky, no clouds, jungle lining the muddy water as we pushed through. The engine purred dully as I steered us upstream, with my good hand on the motor rod, watching the banks obsessively as we travelled forwards, forwards, forwards. Krauser sat at the stern of the small boat, gun ready, for what I wasn't sure, but considering some of the water based foes we'd encountered I couldn't really fault his paranoia. The girl sat between us, hugging herself tightly, eyes trained on the base of the boat. Earlier I'd managed to coax her into a stilted conversation but had soon lost her to silence. She knew who Javier was but seemed unsure as to why we'd want to see him. She knew nothing of an Umbrella contact visiting Javier at least, if she was telling the truth that is. However, the thing that worried me the most was her lack of reaction to her situation. She didn't seem to be as horrified or terrified as she should be considering how we found her. She seemed more confused, insulated. Perhaps it was her way of dealing with all of...this. We were taking this one step at a time, no need to rush in without information and get ourselves hurt or worse.

Yet, despite our caution, nothing hindered our journey up the river. I wasn't sure exactly what I'd been waiting for but it never came. Perhaps I'd expected that thing from the church to follow us. Maybe it was. I let my mind wander, just for a minute trying not to think about exactly where I was and what was happening.

"Hey!" I looked up, startled, to see Krauser looking back at me, "I'm losing you here, watch where you're going will you?"  
"Sorr..." I'd started to say automatically, before I saw exactly what it was I was supposed to be looking out for.

Bodies, hundreds of bodies floating in the water. I swallowed, nose wrinkling at the smell. Women and children, young men, old men, all in different states of decay. I heard Maneula gasp before she moved to away from the side, in the very centre of the boat, eyes trained strictly on the base of the boat now. I felt sorry for her, young girl like that having to see all of this death. No one should have to see this, I thought, no one. I steered as best I could but couldn't help but bump into a few, or come close enough to see more than I ever needed to. I looked to the left and saw a small village nestled into the bank, empty of BOW's. Were these the inhabitants, here around us now? Krauser was muttering something that I couldn't hear over the sound of the engine, but I'm sure wasn't pleasant. Finally he turned back to me.

"These aren't the same as the others," he said, his voice clear of tone, "they're dead but other than that they seem unharmed. They don't show any of the hallmarks of being under the influence of the virus."  
"It looks like..." I swallowed as we passed the corpse of a young boy, wide eyes staring blankly at the sky above, "like they all drowned. Maybe they were running from something, but that doesn't account for them dying."  
"Maybe something pulled them in," Krauser said darkly, looking back to the sea of bodies, "or pushed them."  
"But...why?" I asked in a hushed voice.  
"Who knows," he shrugged, looking to Manuela for a moment with an unreadable expression, "I don't think I want to anymore."  
"Hey look," I said, mainly to distract him, "we're clearing them, and there's the dam."

I let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief as we left the inhuman sight behind us and moved beyond towards the towering grey monolith of the dam. We docked at the short pier in silence. Krauser got out without a word and began scouting the area. I helped Maneula from the boat and un-holstered my gun. I gingerly tried my shoulder and found, to my relief, that it was much easier to move and didn't scream at me any more for the movement. I tried holding my gun up with both hands and, despite a slight twinge, it was fine. I holstered it and pulled out my knife, trying a few practice swings and a jab forwards.

"Ah!" I exclaimed softly as a shot of pain lanced up my arm, "dammit."  
"What the hell are you doing?" a rather unamused voice said from behind me; I turned to see Krauser, with Manuela behind him, watching me.  
"I'm fine," I frowned, "and don't look at me like that or I'll show you just how fine I am. Where do we go from here?"  
"Uh huh," Krauser said, his face and voice still neutral enough to tell me he wasn't impressed, "girly here says she came though the dam, so I guess that's where we're going too."  
"All right," I said, sheathing my knife and un-holstering my gun again, "lead on."

The dam was cold and filled with dark corners, which made me uneasy, and broken lights which made me even more uneasy. It also wasn't the easiest place to navigate, with long winding corridors, artificial waterways, high walkways and deadly drops into deep water. Of course it didn't help that the place was teeming with BOW's.

"Fucking spiders now!" Krauser spat, kicking the carcass of a very oversized tarantula and pushing it into the water, "Where the hell do these things keep coming from?"  
"It's the virus," I said, watching as it floated away, "it gets into everything, all the local wildlife. You saw those amphibious creatures back at the village, they were probably frogs once. These spiders are probably from the surrounding jungle. It mutates everything it infects on a genetic level and creates what you see here."  
"Fucking Umbrella," he said darkly, stalking forwards, gun raised, "just wait until I get my fucking hands on them for putting me through this."  
"Now you know how I feel," I said with a smirk.

He turned to look at me solemnly for a moment, noting my smirk and shaking his head.

"Nothing really bothers you any more, does it Kennedy?" he said as we carefully rounded a corner.  
"Are you kidding?" I said with a derisive laugh, "This stuff scares the shit out of me. Think I like being food for mutant monsters?"  
"Huh," he was almost smiling as he looked at me over his shoulder, "trying to fool me into thinking your human now are we?"  
"You'd know all about that," I said back, "I mean are you gonna keep calling me Kennedy or what?"  
"You can talk," he said gruffly, smirking, "Leon."  
"Jack," I said back, testing the name on my tongue, frowning, "no, it doesn't work, never mind. Sounds wrong."  
"Ha," he exclaimed, shaking his head, "guess we're destined for a second name relationship."

It was a long hard slog before we reached some sort of conduit between the main pipe systems. We entered first, Manuela following behind, and did a quick scan of the area. The room was small, filled with twisting pipes and a few control panels that seemed to be broken. I walked over to one, tapping on a unlit button just to make sure.

"No power," I said to no one in particular, "but the electricity is running. I wonder why these panels are shut off?"

Krauser turned to look at me, opening his mouth to say something. That was when the voice started.

"_Manuela_," it hissed desperately, "_Manuela, you must come home._"  
"What the..?" Krauser said, gun raised, looking back and forth.  
"Wait, I know that voice!" I said, thinking back to the video recordings we'd been shown in the briefing, "that's Hidalgo!"  
"He can see us?" Manuela was looking at the speaker in the corner with a look of sadness on her face.  
"There must be cameras," I said, "he must be in a control room somewhere."  
"_Manuela_," it continued, "_please my child, please don't run from me any longer._"  
"Javier!" I called out, "Show yourself, then we can talk!"  
"No!" Manuela seemed suddenly afraid, though not for herself, "Wait, I'm coming father!"

And with that she started to run. Krauser and I stared after her, dumbstruck, before we gathered our wits and followed. We rounded the corner just as she vanished out of the door, and that was when we saw the bodies that were previously obscured by the wall. As she passed them the dead bodies of the dam workers groaned and pulled themselves from the ground, nails breaking off as they clawed their way up the walls. I halted, brought up my weapon and pulled the trigger without hesitation, dispatching two. Krauser shot the other three, clean through the skulls, and we sprinted for the door Manuela had fled through.

"Father?" Krauser said with an angry tone, "Kept that one quiet didn't she?"  
"Not the time," I said, raising my gun to dispatch another worker, "or the place. Leave it."

Surprisingly he did. I was surprised how at how anxious I felt, I'd barely known the girl for an hour, I wasn't even sure about her, who she was, what part she had in this and yet letting her out of my sight was making my heart beat faster in my chest. She just looked so...innocent. I didn't want any more innocent people hurt by Umbrella, I swore never again and I meant it. So when we found Manuela just through the next door, her head in her hands, all I wanted to do was sigh in relief to find her unharmed; but no time for that, focus Leon, keep your mind on track. She looked up and shook her head as we approached.

"Leon! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she started, eyes welling up.  
"It's okay," I said, slowing to a stop before her, "just, for gods sakes, don't run off alone like that again, understand?"

I hadn't understood why she'd said she was sorry. I thought she meant for running away without any protection, for putting herself in harm's way because that's what I'd been so afraid of. That she'd get hurt, that anyone else would get hurt. It had never even entered my realms of possibility that the reason she was sorry was that there was a man with a gun standing beside me. We'd run right past him as we entered, so focused on Manuela. I didn't even have time to turn around before he brought the butt of his rifle down hard on the base of my neck, sending blinding pain rushing through my nervous system. Everything seemed to happen at once...

I collapsed to my knees and my gun fell from my limp hand.  
I heard Krauser yell, I heard bullets fired and Manuela scream.  
My vision blurred, I tried to right myself, then...  
"Manuela my child, you've come back."  
I didn't have time to think before a heavy weight barrelled into my side and I was plunged into unseen water, cold, thick, invading my lungs, the weight holding me down under the suffocating chill. I tried to hold my breath but it was useless, I'd had the wind knocked out of me, I could feel the water rushing into my lungs, filling up the spaces where air should be, stealing what little consciousness I had left. We moved in the water, the weight and I, pulled along by a strong current. I felt arms close around me as I went limp and, just as I faded into darkness...

"Leon!"

I felt the pain through the haze of near death.

"Fucking wake up!" another slap across the face and I blinked my eyes open.

It was still dark. Suddenly realising I had no air in my lungs I pulled in a long breath and choked

"Thank Christ," I heard Krauser sigh.

I was pulled upright and a large hand slapped me on the back as I coughed roughly into my cold, wet hand. I looked up into the gloom and saw Krauser outlined by a faint light of unknown origin. I coughed again before trying to talk.

"Where are we?" I asked.  
"Fuck knows," Krauser growled.

He took hold of my hand and hauled me up onto my feet. I steadied myself on his arms as a wave of dizziness assaulted me.

"Whoa, careful, you took quite a hit back there," he said, puting his hand on my shoulder.  
"Bastard didn't pull his punches," I spat out as I reached behind me and rubbed the back of my neck, hissing in pain, "I should have been more careful. Fuck! What happened?"

I leaned back against the nearest wall once Krauser was happy I was alright. The room was long and narrow, almost entirely dark save for what looked like a few natural light sources coming in from the ceiling. We must be away from the dam, I thought hazily, somewhere still underground. I could hear the rushing of the water and looked down to see the small inlet where Krauser must have dragged us out of the stream. Krauser leaned against the opposite wall, only a few feet away; I could see his eyes in the dark as he watched me.

"Ambush," he said, "it was Havier alright, he had some goon with him. He hit you, turned on me and took a few shots. The girl screamed and that distracted him. I didn't want to miss an opportunity and did the only thing I could to get out. I put us both into the water and hoped that there would be an outlet somewhere close."  
"Good thing you were right," I said, relaxing as my senses came back to themselves, the shock wearing off.  
"Yeah," he said in annoyance, and odd tone to his voice, "but it's not all roses. I have no idea where we are, we now have no weapons, we've lost the girl and Havier..."  
"Then we get our bearings first," I said, rubbing at my neck gingerly, "then we try and find some guns and regroup here."  
"Fine, I'll go recon, you stay here," he said authoritatively, "you might still be disoriented, it's best if I..."  
"Krauser," I interrupted, frowning, "what's wrong?"  
"What?" he said angrily, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? How about from the little list I just made of our current deep shit situation you take your fucking pick..!"  
"No," I said, pushing away from the wall and letting my hands reach out for him, feeling his body in front of me, running my hand up his arm. I felt his body stiffen under my touch, still wet from the water.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said dangerously.  
"You're hurt," I said in my best matter of fact tone, "don't lie. Why didn't you say something?"  
"It's not the main priority right now is it?" he spat, trying to push me away.  
"Don't fuck with me Krauser," I said back darkly, stilling his resistance.

He became strangely quiet. I slid my hand further up his arm, wet skin under my touch, until I felt torn flesh and heard hissing pain. I instinctively reached down and found my knife which, thankfully, had remained buttoned into its sheath, and cut through the seam of my shirt, ripping a strip off.

"You ever try to hide a bullet wound again, or any wound for that matter," I said as I wound the strip of wet cloth around his arm, ignoring his grunt of pain, "I'll make you regret it."

I tore off another strip and double bound his arm as tightly as I could. He didn't make another sound, just stood there and took it. I was still angry, yes, but also a little disconcerted. I couldn't see his face properly because of the darkness, I had no idea what his reaction was, was he angry, hurt, amused, homicidal? I began to wish he would say something, even if it was just to bite my damn head off. I cleared my throat as casually as I could, deciding to break the silence.

"We'll need to find some dry bandages or material, these wet clothes won't help the bleeding stop as well," I looked towards the other end of the room, wishing I could see it, "and some medical supplies. That's our first priority, alright?"

Silence. I lost my temper.

"Krauser god dammit, what the hell's the matter with you..!" I started, but didn't get very far.

I felt him come at me more than saw him. I couldn't move in time, he slammed me into the wall and again, just as in the locker room, I felt that same fear rush into my system, that same panic that I'd pushed him too far, that I was out of my depth and now he was really going to hurt me, and this wasn't the time or the place for us to fall out and come to blows, not when we needed to stick together and...  
...then his hands were around my back and I was pulled against him, hot solid chest crushed against mine, fingers clutching into my soaked shirt, mouth hungrily crushed against my own. I went rigid in his grasp, shock, panic, my arms flailed for a moment before clasping round him to find purchase, trying to claw him off me. What...why..? He forced his tongue into my mouth and I let out an unflattering groan, he ground my body up against the wall hard, jolting the tender spot on my neck. It flared in pain and I instinctively bit down. I tasted blood and he pulled back, the heat suddenly gone, just two sets of ragged breaths filling up the balmy gloom between us.

I still couldn't see his face. Fuck what was that? I...I don't...

"I'm going to find supplies," I said, grasping for something to say, steadying my breathing, "stay here."

I slowly felt my way to the end of the room, which wasn't as far as it looked, listening to his receding breaths with a mixture of anger, guilt and confusion. My neck throbbed continuously but I pushed it to the back of my mind, along with everything else, and focused solely on finding the door and then the handle. Medical supplies, I said to myself, find supplies and figure the rest out later.

* * *

**AN: **Sorry it's been so long since I last updated this story and all the others! I'm trying to find time as best I can but am still really busy with uni work so please be patient! Thanks again to everyone who reviewed and put a fav/alert! You guys are the best and it's one of the ways I know it's worth writing, as long as someone out there enjoys it.

Thanks to:  
Victory Is For the Weak  
Shadowave  
NarutoAnimeFanGirl0e  
Mrs little  
The Vampire Brooke  
Imajineer  
MadHatterMCR (I hope Leon was a little less wussy in this chapter, I did realise that he was becoming a little soft so I hope it'll be remedied!)  
Thanks for asking for more! Hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully I'll have another chapter out as soon as possible!

Maiko x


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